Pigskin Mirror
by Snakefire1
Summary: Two provinces investigate rumors of an illegal facility in the north of Saskatchewan, where something deeply sinister is afoot. And what the hell is up with that creepy golden mirror...?
1. Chapter 1

**Pigskin Mirror**

 **Chapter 1**

* * *

 _The first sounded, and there came hail and fire, mixed with blood, and they were thrown to the earth; and a third of the earth was burned up, and a third of the trees were burned up, and all the green grass was burned up._

 _-Revelation 8:7_

* * *

"This was a stupid fucking idea, I hope you're aware."

Ontario's voice was terse and angry, hissed at Alberta through the tightly clenched teeth of a man who's had more than enough shit for one afternoon. He was wedged between some rough-hewn wooden crates containing some suspicious rattling canisters and the cold steel of the moving van's interior wall, destined for God knew where. The fact that _Alberta_ was the brains of this operation was his first clue that this wasn't going to end well; she wasn't stupid, but then, planning was not the blonde woman's strong point. Alberta just rolled her blue eyes in response to his little quip, checking her phone to get a sense of where they were going. They'd been in this truck for hours now, and it was just a good thing neither of them had to pee.

Alberta's determination in the face of what was starting to look more and more like an honest-to-god conspiracy was something Ontario had to grudgingly respect. On the other hand, it had something to do with Saskatchewan, and when it came to the twins, they were willing to move mountains for each other. And whatever was going on up here was more than a bit suspicious, since whatever it was seemed to have some kind of correlation with Saskatchewan's behaviour, or at least that was Alberta's theory. And his behaviour was rather suspect, since her twin had been acting…well, _happy._

Not that that was a bad thing, not by any means. Ontario bit his lip, feeling a bit guilty; he wasn't here to spoil the farmer's rare moment of joy, he reminded himself. He released his own lip in the nick of time, as the truck hit a pothole that surely would have bumped blood out of his bite had he still been clinging on. But the guilt still persisted. Saskatchewan was a melancholy man, or at least that had been their perception of him for the last sixty years. Anything that brought joy or a smile to his dour, stoic face was something to be applauded and encouraged…or at least, that was the premise Ontario was working off of.

It was a few years after the end of the Second World War when the formerly contented and stoic Saskatchewan's spirits seemed to dampen. He steadily grew more listless and unhappy as the decades wore on, in time with his people's descent into apathy and misery. To be from Saskatchewan had become synonymous with pessimism, gloom, and (for reasons that had eluded medicine for decades) depression. The province had the highest incidence of suicide, depression, and dissatisfaction with life across the whole of the country- and nobody knew why. Nothing seemed to help- No government programs, not a booming economy…nothing. And as time had passed, the rest of the country slowly gave up trying to shake Saskatchewan out of its funk.

Ontario closed his eyes and let out a deep breath. That was how it had been for sixty years, and then…three years ago, everything changed. Something happened to Saskatchewan, some epiphany or revival, which suddenly put the colour back in his cheeks. The contrast was not an easy one to swallow and about as smooth and natural a transition as a car accident; it had happened over the course of a single day, too, while the farmer had been out shopping. The memory of that moment was ingrained in Ontario's mind; how could he ever forget it?

* * *

 _Two weeks to Christmas, and white powder snow frosted the ground here and there, full of footprints and snow angels despite the brevity of its contact with the earth. The house, Canada's house, was warm and welcoming, the province's second home. Ontario himself reclined in a rocking chair, perusing a scientific magazine- and in particular, an article about the nigh-ubiquitous "smartcell" technology that had by and large supplanted gasoline as a fuel source for cars and homes. It was also used in huge solar farms that could harvest terawatts of energy in just a few hours from the sun itself, using a skillfully crafted arrangement of smartcells and crude oil in pipes as a heat transfer. It was all very fascinating and positive stuff, and put a smile on Ontario's face._

 _The door swung open with an accompanying blast of cold air and snowflakes, and Alberta called out a cheery greeting, stamping her thick boots on the mat and shaking the flakes off her cowboy hat. She'd gone shopping with Saskatchewan for presents, and as they moved into the kitchen to place their haul on the table for sorting, something unusual caught Ontario's eye. A mirror under Saskatchewan's arm, which came to a curved peak at the top; inset at that peak were some semi-precious gems, a milky opal and some jade and jet, cut, carved and set into the shape of an eye. Aside from that, it seemed to be an otherwise-normal mirror, if a bit on the gaudy side._

 _"_ _Good haul, eh sis?" And that was strange for Saskatchewan to suddenly seem so chipper, but even stranger for him to run his fingers along the frame of the mirror almost tenderly. He'd taped a huge piece of cardboard over most of the silver part, making sure nobody else could see their reflection, though it was probably just for transport; to keep the surface from scuffs or scratches._

 _Alberta nodded, and grinned at Ontario. "You'd be amazed what we found at that old antique shop! Got pretty much all our shopping done there…and Sasky picked up that creepy mirror, but hey, whatever floats your boat, buddy." She grinned and punched her twin- gently- in the upper arm, a gesture he couldn't help but reciprocate. And Ontario watched in amazement as Saskatchewan- glum, miserable Saskatchewan- engaged in the kind of friendly banter with his sister that he hadn't seen in months._

 _And all the while the mirror's jade eye winked at him from its setting, like it could see something he could not._

* * *

That damn mirror and its fucking eye had carved a hole into Ontario's memory and slotted itself inside, an indelible stain he couldn't seem to rub out. But it was Saskatchewan's behaviour the last few years that had been the most strange. Normally when a deeply depressed person experiences a sharp uptick in their general mood, it's a worrying symptom possibly foreshadowing a suicide attempt or something else; but in Saskatchewan's case, that was largely impossible. He was a personification, tied to his land and people, and he was forbidden to die as long as what he personified remained in the minds of the population. So the sudden uptick in mood hadn't been some kind of red flag; it was just a positive thing to accept. It was as if he had suddenly found a reason to exist again, after such a long time of woe and despair.

The truck hit another bump, and the canisters in their crates rattled again- Ontario squinted at them. Alberta's phone provided enough illumination to make out the rough details of what was on the sides and top. They were pressurized tanks, full of a gas of some kind; he could tell from the little spigot valve at the top and the WHIMIS symbol for pressurized gas plastered on the side, beside the "corrosive" and "poisonous" warnings. They were transporting something less than savoury on this truck, he was sure of it. Ontario pulled out his flashlight and flicked it on to try and get a better look. Under the flashlight's flickering glare, Ontario caught sight of something that made him raise an eyebrow.

FLOURINE GAS! DANGER! HIGHLY REACTIVE AND EXPLOSIVE!

The tank's warnings made Ontario gulp. But that was just the one canister; there were others, too. One of them was a steel drum, strapped securely in place; and to make matters worse, any identifying markings on that drum had been painted over. Stamped on the lid was something even more ominous: "99.6% PURE HEX. PROPERTY OF THE GOVERNMENT OF THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA."

That…didn't bode well. They would have had to pick this stuff up south of the border, and the US government probably didn't want this container to just go missing all of a sudden. So they were doubtlessly looking for it, which meant…

"Alberta!" he hissed, gesturing at the canister, "This is fucking fluorine. And that one…that one belongs to the US government. That drum should _not_ be on this truck. What the fuck are they doing with it?!"

Alberta nodded grimly. "Yeah, I know. I got a tip-off from Montana that something was up. He said a bunch of guys from way the fuck up north in Saskatchewan kept coming down south to Billings to buy shit off a chemical dealer there- and before you ask, Montana only looked into it 'cause he got told that the dealings were kinda…not legal. So I guess this means Monty was totally right. What's hex?" she asked pointedly, cocking her head.

Ontario shuddered. "Any number of things, none of them pleasant. I'm gonna go with sulfurhexafluoride to make myself feel better about this whole situation. But there is a slim possibility that Saskatchewan's…." He swallowed, and let his voice peter out. No. That was impossible, and the only reason he'd even bothered to consider it was the fact that they were driving up to the northern part of the rectangular province. Saskatchewan had no need of…. _that_ kind of Hex.

Silence filled the truck's bay area for an hour or a minute; Ontario wasn't sure how much life the flashlight's batteries had, and he wanted to conserve them, so checking his watch was a bit of a waste of effort. Alberta seemed to be oblivious to the crushing, dragging, all-consuming awkwardness of the situation, so devoted to her task that she was willing to wait in sullen silence for as long as it took. And that was admirable, in its own way, but Ontario really wanted to find a way to pass the time, because he was getting terribly bored.

Alberta hadn't really _invited_ him on this little escapade; he'd invited himself. All of Canada's uranium mines were located in Saskatchewan, and the figures for the mine's total output had gotten rather suspicious of late. Ontario didn't want to suspect Saskatchewan of shady dealings, but when a formerly-thriving mine's production is suddenly slashed in half and yet is shows no signs of shutting its doors, well. Except it wasn't sudden, not at all, and the eastern province knew it well. Ontario's own nuclear power plants put him in a unique position to review Saskatchewan's uranium production figures, a measure he took as part of Canada's Non-Nuclear Proliferation commitments. The mines were generally owned by companies who were allowed to sell their uranium to anyone on a very specific list of approved countries, India being a good example of a blacklisted country. If you made nukes with Canadian reactors or uranium, you would find yourself swiftly cut off from any further aid in that area.

So when he'd noticed that over the course of the last three years, one of the largest mines in Saskatchewan had steadily cut its production down by half…Ontario had to worry. He'd tried asking the farmer, only to get stonewalled with a bullshit answer about the mines being "played out" when they clearly weren't. He could have been selling it under the table to any number of interested parties, all of whom would doubtlessly turn around and build nukes with it. It was a frightening thought; that one of their own provinces had turned into an illegal uranium baron.

There was one other reason for this little mission, Saskatchewan's shady accounting notwithstanding. And that was the simple fact that the farmer had disappeared for the last three months. He hadn't been answering his phone; no emails, texts, or any other form of communication seemed to reach him. Alberta's initial plan involved, in her words, "Jacking a Leopard C2 and fucking storming the place until they give me my brother back." Which had been about two months ago, but Ontario was incredibly grateful Alberta hadn't actually opted to hijack a Canadian Army tank and take it for a little joyride.

Ontario huffed out a sigh and flicked his brown eyes up at the ceiling. This truck was filthy and it was really putting the dirty into his blonde, and Alberta's too, come to think of it. It was so strange to see his youngest sister without her cowboy hat, he noted dimly; then again, it was a bit of a cumbersome thing to wear onto a truck like this. Not to mention it was really cold. The truck's back area wasn't heated, and he could see his own breath; Alberta had opted for a camouflage-coloured toque to go with her thick jacket. Ontario didn't have the heart to tell her that for this kind of a stealth mission, camo was not the way to go. Not that it really mattered; they were going to be here for a good, long while.

* * *

 _"_ _Wake up! Wake up, you fucking asshole!"_

Ontario jerked awake, shaking his head and making an audible _"bwuh?!"_ sort of noise in response to the gloved hands suddenly shaking his shoulders. The first thing his bleary brain noticed was the fact that all his limbs appeared to have frozen themselves stiff in the interim, however that had actually been. The second thing he noticed was that there was actually light in the back of the truck, and that it had stopped vibrating. As his ears re-engaged, the sound of two people having a conversation dangerously close to their hiding place caused him to immediately jolt to full alertness. They weren't supposed to be here, and if they got caught now, well. There would almost certainly be hell to pay.

The moving van's back door had been rolled up all the way, and both driver and assistant were chatting with each other in plain view of the two huddled provinces. They'd backed the truck into a loading dock and extended a retractable steel sheet between the truck's bed and the dock, to allow a forklift easier access to the skids of gas and chemicals. As Ontario and Alberta peered out between the crates, they could see a large storage space with lots of people milling around, and more than one forklift moving crates to and fro- but strangely, only the one loading dock. It was also much warmer in the facility, the heat something Ontario was incredibly grateful of as he slowly reached down to his pocket to remove something, eyes flicking from one clueless human to another. The smallest sound seemed deafening to him, and if he lost his balance and fell over, they were both dead.

Alberta looked at him expectantly, taking shaky breath after shaky breath; this may have been her operation, but Ontario was the one who actually had the means to get them out of there alive. He slowly unzipped his parka's pocket, the both of them wincing at how loud it was in the stillness, and pulled out a small remote control. It was the remote for one of Nunavut's toy cars, the little radio control rigged up to a _very_ different device than the RC car it was supposed to be connected to. At the truckstop in Prince Albert, while the driver and his navigator were eating lunch in the restaurant, Alberta and Ontario had been rather busy getting the vehicle ready for this precise moment. Ontario had spent quite a bit of time magnetically sticking a couple of little gizmos to the backside of the truck's front fender, while Alberta had busied herself with the essential task of picking the lock to get them into the truck in the first place. And now, it was the moment of truth; either Ontario's little toys worked, or they were totally hosed.

The rustling of fabric and Ontario's noisy zipper seemed to catch the attention of one of the men, who looked into the truck with a raised eyebrow, opening his mouth to ask what the hell that sound had been. Ontario, fully aware that he had mere seconds to pull this off, immediately flicked on the little remote and jabbed at the four buttons in the sequence he'd programmed, praying to god the waterproof snow-shielding had done its job and that none of the distraction-makers had fallen off.

So it was _almost_ a relief when the button-pressing was rewarded with the sound of a bear-banger firing off loudly, and a tinny speaker screaming through the frosty February air about nothing in particular. Almost, because while the bear-bangers firing off one by one had the desired effect- namely, getting the drivers and everyone else to go running towards the source of the distraction- it was a bit of a double-edged sword, because every single BANG seemed to make his already-cantering heart miss a beat or twelve.

Alberta was already on her feet, squeezing out between the rows of strapped-down crates and ignoring the splinters in her coat, boots, and gloves. She could see the loading dock bay, and it was then that she realized that there would need to be a slight change of plans. Thirty feet away was an office with a large glass window that gave its occupant a good view of the goings-on in the facility. And in that office was a man in a swivel chair, looking at the back wall and clearly on the phone. But when Alberta forced her way out of the last row of crates and onto the truck's steel ramp, she saw him hang up the phone and start to swivel his chair around.

Alberta panicked.

She looked left and right, and much to Ontario's confusion, she opted to dive off the side of the steel ramp and back outside, landing in a freshly-fallen pile of snow just outside the loading dock with a muffled 'OOF!" It hurt like hell, the snow stinging her face and nose and hands, but with all the shouting and commotion, the blonde had just enough time to bury herself in the snow, hands frantically shovelling and digging herself into the pile until nothing was visible, not even her stupid camouflage toque.

Ontario was not so lucky. No sooner had he managed to wriggle himself free than the man at his desk spun around fully and looked up. And across the empty loading dock, their eyes met- and the man was not happy, not at all. He immediately started yelling, or so it seemed by his appearance- slamming a button on his desk and sprinting out of his office. Ontario's calm intellect and planning abilities completely fizzled out of his brain at the terrifying, heart-stopping realization that he'd been caught.

He started sprinting across the shop floor as the alarm was raised, frantically looking this way and that way for any place to hide. Following Alberta into the snow had appealed to him for a fraction of a second, but then he'd realized that he'd already been seen. Better for one of them to get away instead of both of them getting caught.

Ontario managed to find a closet off to the side to scramble inside, slamming the door behind him just as the guards showed up. He was so, so fucking screwed.

And whatever Saskatchewan was up to here, it sure as hell wasn't above-board.

* * *

 _A/N:_

 _Don't panic. This isn't a sign I've abandoned The West Wind Howls. I'm still working on that, but this is another little side story I've been toying with for awhile that I wanted to share with you all. This isn't to replace West Wind, but it is exploring another alternate universe with another slightly altered Canada. Hooray!_

 _Anyway, if you liked it, hated it, or whatever else, leave a review and let me know how you feel._


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

* * *

Alberta clamped her eyes shut and tried not to breathe, acutely aware that coming here was quite possibly one of the larger mistakes she'd made in her life. She could hear those booted feet stamping around somewhere not too far away, and she sucked in a breath and held it as one of the men approached her pile of snow. And then, mercifully, he walked away, shaking his head and yelling at the others that there was nobody else there. She was trapped, as trapped as she could have possibly been; one twitch, one movement, and the forklift operator would see her. And from there on out? Game over. Her leg was starting to hurt, locked into an uncomfortable position as she waited for them all to leave. So she could…ugh…rescue Ontario. As much as he annoyed her, she could hear him shouting and screaming about…something, and then there was a loud slam, like a door being closed, and then…silence. And Alberta had to listen to all of that, had to listen to something happen to her adopted brother, and not move a muscle the entire time.

The forklift eventually started offloading the crates, or so she assumed from the sounds coming from overhead; Alberta didn't dare raise her head lest she be spotted. She had to time her breaths, inhaling and exhaling when the forklift driver was in the truck and holding it when he was able to potentially see her. The seconds stretched into minutes, an eternity of lying in the snow, shivering and thanking god that her coat was thick enough to keep her body heat from melting the snow.

And after an eternity of waiting, they seemed to have offloaded every last crate. There was a tremendous clattering and banging as the ramp was retracted into the truck, or perhaps the loading dock; more rumbling thuds and bangs as the doors were wheeled closed; and to her immense and eternal relief, the truck rumbled to life and pulled away. As soon as the roaring of the engine was a distant rumble on the horizon and silence had once more filled the February air, Alberta lifted her head just a smidgen. Just to peek. Just to see if there was anything else, anyone else around.

She breathed a sigh of relief and sat up, brushing the now off her coat and sighing about her soaking wet jeans. Her legs were going to get a bit of frostbite, since her body heat had melted the snow around her jeans and soaked the fabric through; but on the other hand, there was nothing soaking into her parka, which was all she could really ask. Alberta sat up and stretched, taking stock of her surroundings and deciding the best course of action was not to stay around here like a stupid sitting duck. She climbed to her feet and started to trot through the snow, looking around for any signs of life and finding none. The loading dock was inset into what appeared to be a stone cliff face carved from a weirdly symmetrical hill, so Alberta decided to walk along the top of it for awhile. It was probably some kind of underground…thing.

Though…that still didn't explain why all the trees on this hill looked so damn strange.

As she waded through the much shallower snow on top of the hill, the blue-eyed province noticed that the trees on top of the hill didn't seem to have any moss or old man's beard growing on them. No lichen, either, and another strange thing was the lack of seedlings or rocks in the ground. She kept walking, more than a smidgen weirded out by the unnatural trees, until her curiosity finally got the better of her and she walked up to one and had a closer look.

"Oh, Fuck. They're fake?"

They certainly seemed to be, at least on the surface. Well aware that she was now officially talking to herself, but unable to muster the necessary number of fucks to give, Alberta reached out and tugged at one of the pine tree's branches, attempting to separate some of the needles. This outright confirmed it; the needles were all made of plastic. These trees were all fake, placed here for reasons beyond her comprehension. Possibly to make it impossible to detect what was going on here from Google Maps; one would have to be standing next to these fake trees to know that they were even fake to begin with. The fake forest of fake trees made Alberta shudder- it was just intrinsically _wrong,_ moreso than if they'd just stuck their facility in the boonies and called it a day. What in god's name were they so worried about being discovered, anyway?

The plastic pines weren't forthcoming with answers, and Alberta started to get a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach. This wasn't good-whatever it was Sasky was doing up here, he didn't want anyone to know about it.

Suddenly, she noticed something far ahead of her, and immediately crouched down behind one of the pathetically thin fake trees, fully aware that it did nothing but make her a more visible target if there was anyone watching. About ten meters away, there was some kind of ladder-cage sticking out of the ground- it was locked tightly, not that that was any deterrent to her and her selection of lockpicks. Alberta snorted in the frosty evening air in bitter amusement- it was Saskatchewan himself that had taught her how to pick deadbolt locks like this, one lazy Sunday afternoon in the dead of winter. And here she was, using that same skill he'd taught her to figure out what the fuck he was up to. On the other hand, Alberta lacked the patience for Saskatchewan's fiddly method of messing around and shunting tumblers into place; she'd brought a little gadget of her own that did the same job way, WAY better.

The cage didn't seem to be under any kind of surveillance, nor did there seem to be anyone around, so Alberta walked up to it and opened her coat, removing a small box from the inner pouch of the parka and pulling it out. It was a lucky thing she'd learned of this little trick instead of the "stick two bits of steel into the lock and poke at it until something gives" method, because her fingers were far too cold for that to be a viable option. Instead, Alberta opened her little case and pulled out a hand-sized tool that looked faintly like a handgun if you squinted at it, and slotted into it a little piece of metal. She also removed a little torsion wrench from the kit, slotting both the little gun's metal bit and the wrench into the lock at the same time. The gun, or snap gun, was a handy way of getting into deadbolts without a key- by pulling the trigger, it jolted all the tumbler pins upwards in their channels, allowing the torsion wrench to open the lock without damaging it. And with a little click and a turn, Alberta was in, just like that.

The deadbolt on the cage was defeated, but that just left her staring at what appeared to be a patch of snow with an unusually complicated opening mechanism on the door to the cage surrounding it. She dropped to her knees, packing up her lockpicking kit and slipping it back inside her parka, then putting on her gloves and starting to dig at the snow. Great handfuls of the soft white powder were flung in all directions, haphazardly and thoughtlessly; this was probably some kind of emergency hatch or something. And her digging was rewarded when her fingers finally thunked against something solid and concrete- and through the miasma of powder flakes, Alberta could see that it had been painted to look like a forest's floor, with fake grass glued in place to give the impression that it was a natural thing, at least from the air. Her work was rewarded with a crude seam along the edge, demarcating a hatch that was sealed shut- probably an emergency exit of some kind, or perhaps a secret entrance. She brushed away the last bit of snow covering a locked Plexiglas flip-cover over a switch- and shrugged. Personally she would have gone with a keypad, but hey, hers not to reason why and all that.

A few noisy clicks later and Alberta casually flipped the switch, jumping back a bit when her fiddling was rewarded by a huge, heavy lock disengaging and the circular hatch sliding into a special slot designed to accommodate it with a heavy motorized whirring and grinding sound. It was also pretty quick; no sooner had she packed up her tools and slipped her gloves back on than the hatch was fully open and offering a hole straight into the bowels of the fucking earth. Seriously, it was pitch-black down there, and Alberta shuddered as she slipped the case back in her coat and started to climb the ladder down.

Hand over hand, rung over rung, she descended into the facility's darkened depths as quietly as she could; this entire situation was staring to make the small hairs at the back of her blond mane stand on end. Alberta did not like this, not at all, and when her booted foot made contact with the tile floor both uncomfortably hard and frighteningly loud, she let out a petrified squawk of momentary animal fright. But at least she had both feet on the ground, and in the dim light of the setting sun far above, she could at least make out some of the room around her. It was some kind of a storage room, with a plethora of lockers for a worker to store their belongings- great, just what she needed, a small room with only one means of escape and a virtual guarantee that someone would be coming in here.

She scanned over the lockers, and then looked around- they were secured with a fairly simple school combination lock, something that experience had taught her was fairly easy for her provincial muscle to overcome. Tempered deadbolts took a finer touch, but cheap high-school padlocks? Not a problem.

Alberta grabbed the shackle of the locker in front of her and grunted, pulling the shackle and snapping all the internal mechanisms without breaking a sweat. A trivial matter for a personification such as herself, but Alberta remained oblivious as to her superior position with regards to her strength. With a population three million strong and an economy that many would term a powerhouse, she had the might to snap a little steel lock like this with ease.

The locker's contents were suddenly available to her, and to her delight, the first thing she found was a lab coat, and mercifully, a pair of sunglasses. The other thing she gathered from the woman's locker- for it was a woman that owned it, or at least, that's what the photos stuck to the insides lead her to believe- was that she was away on holiday and coming back to work the next day. There was a large calendar glued to the inside, showing the current month; and the week that had passed was demarcated with 'BARBADOS' in bright red sharpie. Alberta squinted at the calendar even as she set about slipping into the woman's work clothes and shoving the sunglasses onto her face, because the next day, tomorrow…it had been circled several times, and in place of a description, "22:13" had been scrawled, underlined, and circled a few times. Whatever it was, it seemed to be incredibly important; Alberta's curiosity was now piqued. What was it that Saskatchewan was up to, exactly?

She changed into the work gear in the locker, initially hesitant to leave her coat in the locker. She transferred her stuff to the pockets of her lab coat, looking over the photo again- as long as she kept her head down and maybe claimed she'd dyed her hair on vacation…? On the other hand, she still needed to tie it up, like the woman had done in her photo. Thankfully, the actual owner of this locker kept a box of hair ties in the locker itself, so as soon as Alberta had transferred all her personal belongings to the pockets of her lab coat and stuffed her boots and jacket in the locker, she tied her hair back and grabbed a clipboard.

It was only as Alberta was doing up the buttons of her lab coat that she noticed the name printed on the coat itself- Doctor Summers.

"Heh, cool. I'm a doctor now."

* * *

 _A/N:_

 _Not much to say, really, although you might be surprised what you see when you google 22:13._

 _I really like that quote, shush you._

 _Next chapter for this and The West Wind Howls sometime after my exams are over. If you aren't reading TWWH, go do that. You should. It's awesome. 8/10 doctors recommend it. (the ninth one didn't understand what 'Hetalia' was, and the tenth didn't know what a 'Canada' was, which really calls into question his license to practice medicine if he's that stupid.)_

 _Next time: the conspiracy deepens and accents are imitated!_

 _If you liked it, leave a review! Tell me your thoughts. I might even start doing some shoutouts here in the near future!_


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

* * *

 _Five years previously…_

 _The gas station store was acceptably dingy for a small-town establishment, piled high to the ceiling with goods and snacks and socks and so forth. Saskatchewan's truck had been running on fumes when they'd pulled in, or so he'd claimed; Alberta's cursory glance at the fuel gauge indicated otherwise, though some topping up was certainly prudent._

 _Alberta grabbed a drink from one of the gas station's many fridges, falling in line behind her brother to patiently await her turn. She certainly didn't need her twin paying for a bit of soda, especially when he'd turned down her offer to pay for his gas._

 _Eavesdropping was always rude, but considering there were just three people in the shop, it was next to impossible. But even as she tried to look away, Saskatchewan decided to so something very odd indeed._

 _"…_ _And can I get some scratchcards, too." He said flatly, and this prompted Alberta to quirk an eyebrow. Scratchcards? Saskatchewan wasn't a gambler by any stretch of the imagination. He'd go to a casino once every few years as a treat, or play poker with the family, but she'd never in her life heard of him buying lottery tickets for any reason. A waste of money, he'd always declared them, or a tax on the stupid._

 _And yet._

 _"_ _Right, how many and what kinds would you like?"_

 _"_ _I'd like…that one, that one…No, No, that one right there_ specifically."

 _The man behind the counter was more than a tad bit baffled by this, and he resorted to pulling the entire thing out and laying on top so Saskatchewan could pick his specific tickets. Alberta raised an eyebrow as she watched her brother skim his fingers over the selection, like he was trying to see which ones were winning tickets and which ones weren't just by glance._

 _Or like he was trying to remember something._

 _He finally picked out three that satisfied him, and then, for some strange reason, looked at the cashier and added, "Can I also get two random ones? Just the really cheap ones, a dollar apiece."_

 _The man shrugged and fished out the requested tickets, and Alberta was utterly baffled. As the cashier rang up her twin's order, she started to rack her brains, trying to think of some explanation for his weird behaviour. There was none, or at least none that satisfied her._

 _Saskatchewan paid with a fifty-dollar bill and stepped aside as soon as the tickets and his change were in his hands. Immediately he set to work on one of the cards, fingers trailing the surface of the printed paper sheet before selecting his spot and starting to scratch._

 _Alberta slapped a fiver on the counter and mumbled something about keeping the change to the cashier, concern for her twin growing. She tapped him on the shoulder to pull him away from his ticket, the look of worry on her face persisting all the way to her brother's truck._

 _The door was safely slammed behind her when she finally chose to say,_

 _"…_ _This better not be a new thing, bro. You know gambling's really stupid, right?"_

 _Saskatchewan just replied with a grunt, leaning on the wheel and continuing to scratch at the pretty golden ticket the man had sold him. The truck sat idly in place in the pumps, Saskatchewan's focus unruffled. For several uncomfortable seconds, the truck's cab was filled by the noise of a loonie scratching at the paper and Alberta's frosty breathing. Finally, with a pile of shavings on his lap, Saskatchewan leaned back and looked at the ticket._

 _And he looked terrified._

 _"…_ _I won…." He mumbled, staring at it with wide, wondrous eyes. "…I…I won. It…I won."_

 _Alberta snorted and folded her arms._

 _"_ _That's great, Sask. You wanna start the truck? I can see my own breath here, and I think that guy in the store is about to give you hell for hogging his only pump."_

 _That seemed to startle her twin into action, turning the key and pulling out of the station before the man could come outside to yell at them. Just before Saskatchewan pulled out onto the highway, he put the ticket on the console between them- an ideal position for Alberta, so she could see what vast fortunes her brother had won._

 _It couldn't be anything more than a toonie, right?_

 _"…_ _What."_

 _Her eyes ran over the printed text a few more times to be sure, only for the results to come back the same, again and again. It wasn't just a trick of the light; Saskatchewan had just won_ _ **ten thousand dollars.**_

 _"_ _You just- you just won- Ten- TEN FUCKING GRAND?!" she spluttered, eyes wide, and if Saskatchewan weren't used to his sister's outbursts he might have swerved off the road._

 _"_ _Yeah." He said quietly, but the understated reply was hiding a wealth of emotion- for one thing, he was smiling like an idiot and there was a gleam in his eyes that- wait. Alberta whipped her head around to study her twin's facial expression and quirked an eyebrow._

 _That wasn't an "I've just won ten grand" Sasky-face. That was an "I've just been proven totally right about something very important and dear to me" Sasky-face. And the difference between the two was far from a subtle distinction._

 _Before she could question him or demand an explanation for what the actual blinking fuckbaskets the man was playing at, Saskatchewan pulled the other tickets out of his pockets without taking his eyes off the road and handed them to her._

 _"_ _Here. Scratch these for me, would you? I'll let you keep one of the winners in there."_

 _And the way he said it was so certain, so SURE; so sure of something that couldn't be true, couldn't be knowable or possible._

 _It was like her brother had somehow acquired the ability to see the future or something._

 _So Alberta shrugged her shoulders, grabbed a toonie from the empty cupholder between them (Saskatchewan kept his change there so he could pay faster in the drive-thru at Tim Horton's) and set to scratching._

 _After a few minutes, she was staring open-mouthed at the pieces of paper sitting innocently in her hands as if that would make them start to actually make a lick of sense._

 _"…_ _.You won…Five grand on this ticket, and this one…five hundred dollars. I…I don't- Saskatchewan, HOW?! HOW did you pick the only three tickets- How the fuck did you just win fifteen fucking grand on SCRATCHCARDS?!"_

 _"_ _Ten grand and five hundred dollars. You can keep the five thousand. I got what I needed."_

 _At the sound of each of his victories, the smile on his face had ticked upwards just that little bit more. Like he was trying to prove a point- to someone, or maybe himself._

 _"_ _Did you…Did you find a way to hack the lottery's database or something?"_

 _Saskatchewan just shook his head at her accusation, pulling onto the side road that lead to his farm._

 _"_ _No, I just got...Friends in high places." He said with a smile as they rumbled over the snowy gravel road._

 _The non-answer didn't satisfy Alberta at all, especially because he had a glimmer of a lie on his face, like he wasn't telling her the full story of what exactly transpired back there at the gas station._

 _"…_ _Oh, yeah…uh….by the way, with the little tickets, the loonie ones…one was a dud and the other won ya two dollars. Just letting you know."_

 _Saskatchewan's smile ticked upwards even further, and by this point he was nearly grinning ear-to-ear._

 _"_ _Thanks so much, Allie. That…I really needed to hear that." He said as he pulled up to his own house and killed the engine._

 _"_ _I promise you won't regret this. This…I'm gonna do something really great with that money, just you wait. You're gonna love what I'm gonna do with it, I promise."_

 _Somehow, Alberta seriously doubted that._

* * *

Alberta's shoes clacked off the tile floors in time with her thundering heart, the smile on her face forced and nervous. She was in the lion's den in a tissue-thin disguise, and if anyone found her out, she was doomed. On the other hand, the halls seemed to be unusually empty for this time of day; so perhaps she was just worrying too much?

And then a guard with a machine gun would walk by and Alberta would realize that no, she wasn't being too paranoid.

She walked like she belonged, and the guards never stopped her; a useful trick in trying times. As she walked down the hallways, or more accurately wandered, she kept a sharp eye out for a nameplate on the doors that might match the one on her lab coat. If Doctor Summers was actually a higher up in this…project of her brother's, then her office might have documents pertaining to what was going on here.

As Alberta walked, she took careful notice of something unusual. Pipes. Pipes, all over the walls. They seemed to poke out of one wall and then connect to the next, and occasionally layers of them would overlap each other….and all the pipes were splattered with warnings screaming about danger and toxins and heavy metals…and the trefoil symbol that she recognized as the warning for radiation. Whatever was in those pipes…it couldn't be good at all.

There was a distant BANG, and Alberta jumped a little bit- that had been really worryingly loud. She could only hope that the noise was the result of something the facility was supposed to do, rather than something going catastrophically wrong- she really didn't want to be in a facility that was melting down with radioactive crap in the pipes.

Whatever it was they were doing here was quite likely illegal, Alberta realized distantly, and beyond a shadow of a doubt dangerous. And the posters all but confirmed her suspicions. There were printed posters taped up nearly everywhere- crisply printed affairs with striking colours and bold type. One such poster, printed above a water fountain, read WHAT YOU SEE HERE MUST STAY HERE" with a depiction of a ruffed grouse with its beak tied shut. That really was not helping steady her nerves in the slightest.

There was a small amount of good news, though. Just past the water fountain was a small office with the blinds drawn, and more to the point, a plaque screwed into the door reading "DOCTOR J. SUMMERS, PROJECT QUARTERBACK HEAD DIRECTOR."

Alberta tried the doorhandle and found to her dismay that it was locked. Maybe there was something in the pockets of her lab coat…? A quick fumble through the pockets revealed a smattering of strange things- a "Moon Pie", a small cookie/ cakelike object which looked suspiciously like a Wagon Wheel in a differently-printed wrapper, a thing of pencil lead…and a keycard. Thanking the god that was surely looking out for her, Alberta swiped the keycard through the lock's slot, breathing out a small sigh of relief when the lock clicked, the light flashed green, and the lock disengaged. Quickly she slipped inside the office and slammed the door behind her, finally able to actually let out the nervous breath she'd been holding.

The lightswitch was thankfully within easy reach, and she cast her eyes over the scientist's office, eyes lingering on the certificates and awards she'd received- And impressive decorations they were, too. PHD in Nuclear Physics from some prestigious American university….Yale, apparently. It was definitely a Yank school, if the great big fucking eagle splashed across the paper was any indication; and various awards and medals from…the US military?! A cold shudder ran down her spine as Alberta realized what might happen if anyone found out that she wasn't Doctor Summers, or more to the point, if anyone started talking to her.

She sure as fuck didn't know anything about nuclear physics and nuclear science; hell, she only knew that uranium was actually a metal and not a glowing green rock because Saskatchewan had showed her a lump of it he'd pinched from one of the mines up north. So basically if anyone talked to her, or so much as asked her a question, she was totally hosed.

But in the meantime, her eyes were drawn to a folder on the desk- and more importantly, the fact that there was writing on the front cover.

The writing, she immediately recognized as her brother's; a green pen and tight, precise motions to make the letters neat and legible and easily-read by anyone. Oh, and the minor detail that it was all in Ukrainian.

Not a word of English. Ukrainian.

Which did several things. One, it outright confirmed her brother was here…and two, it proved that Saskatchewan's idea of "encryption" was the laziest thing she'd ever seen.

Honestly, it was just kind of pathetic.

Alberta pulled up a seat and cracked open the manila folder, easily reading the Ukrainian and wondering what in god's name захисник проект was and why it was just a sub-project of a larger whole.

And all the while, unbeknownst to Alberta, a camera high above, hidden behind a fake air duct, watched her every move.

* * *

 _A/N:_

 _Here's the thing about this story: Unlike_ West Wind _, it's had a lot more planning behind it. So the chapters take a bit longer as I go about slotting all the puzzle pieces into place to keep this epic from spiralling out of control._

 _Sorry about the accents, I lied. I do that a lot. Half-formed ideas and all that fun stuff, you know how it is._

 _Also, as usual: Loonie is a one-dollar coin, Toonie (or occasionally twonie) is a two-dollar coin._

 _I hope you enjoyed that chapter. If so, leave me a review, a follow, or a favourite; let me know your thoughts moving forwards and we'll take this train to crazytown together!_

 _Next Time…who's for seeing how the boys are getting on?_


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four**

Ontario came back to life with a gasp, eyes snapping open to try and take stock of his surroundings as he gulped down air in huge amounts, trying to fill his lungs with as much as he could. He breathed almost greedily, completely unaware of how long it had been since he'd…well, died. And where was he now? Seated, or, well, chained to a chair. Around his wrists and ankles, and from the feel of it, his chest and waist too, which the province really felt was total overkill. He struggled a bit, only to realize that these restraints had been custom-made to contain his strength. This was not a pleasant feeling for a province of his might, to realize that he was truly trapped someplace he didn't want to be. But more terrifying than that…was how he'd ended up here at all.

Because the fact that he was in this chair at all, in these _chains_ at all, was enough to give him nightmares.

The guards had easily found him in that little closet and had hauled him out, pointing guns in his face and ordering him to lie on the floor. But then they didn't just shoot him on the spot, as any sane guard would have done. No, one of them knelt down and had a very close, very thorough look at his face, studying it in minute detail, while another one of them took his wallet out of his pocket and went through it. Ontario gulped as he realized the implications of the words that had been shouted- "WE GOT A MATCH!"

They knew who he was. They knew WHAT he was. They, those guards, had KNOWN he couldn't die, had KNOWN what to look for in his wallet…and then they'd acted accordingly.

Because one of them had suddenly put his knee into the province's back, had pushed him down and held him there…as his hands wrapped a piece of steel wire around his neck and drawn it tight.

And they'd killed him.

But that betrayed a planned and coordinated effort, a foreknowledge of what to do with him…and they'd strangled him to death. Death by strangulation was always one of the quickest revivals, because there was often little structural damage to repair outside of the choke point- little tissue damage, no blood to regenerate, and so on. So that was a deliberate manner of making him easier to move, then; it was a lot easier to relocate a corpse than a person.

Which still left him waiting for the man of the hour to show up. And boy oh boy was he going to let fly when Saskatchewan did eventually show up. If Saskatchewan decided to actually show up. It wasn't a sure thing, really.

Time seemed to blur by. He could have been sitting there a minute, or an hour; his watch had been taken from him, and with no other method of knowing how long had gone by, he started to mutter to himself, counting upwards in a continuous sequence. And then he tried counting down from sixty and extending a finger each time he did so. But then after the fifth round of running out of fingers, he lost count and gave it up.

Ontario must have nodded off at some point, because he jolted awake as the door started to open, slowly; it had a loud and complicated locking mechanism, but soon enough it swung open, and the very man he'd been expecting to see strode inside. And the province's eyes went wide as he took in the sight of his younger brother, all grown up and dressed like a modest Bond villain.

The look didn't suit him, really; the crisp grey suit and white shirt just seemed completely off for a man who looked his best in muddy boots and jeans. And yet here he was, his straw-blonde hair combed back neatly instead of concealed beneath a hand-woven straw hat. He'd even trimmed his beard and shaped it a bit, for god's sake. This from Saskatchewan, the farmer. Ontario noticed a curious detail- a large, squarish ring on his right hand, wrapped comfortably around his ring finger. Saskatchewan never wore jewellery, since he'd heard too many horror stories about it getting caught in farm equipment and ruining lives to take the chance. On him it would always grow back; but why take the risk at all? Better to spare himself the agony. And yet here it was, this fat silver ring, with an inscription reading _2014_ on it.

His younger brother's face was angular, with a pointed chin and chiselled nose; neither of which looked particularly friendly or welcoming at that moment. Saskatchewan's face was its usual blank, unreadable mask, but there was a gleam in those cold green eyes that Ontario did not like at all. His eyes were drawn to another curious detail- an earring. His younger brother had gotten his ear pierced, and there was a thin gold loop sitting in the hole, one he couldn't take out lest it seal up the second he removed it.

And they stood there, eye to eye, for a good ten seconds, as Ontario slowly tried to burrow back into his chair. Saskatchewan's face seemed to twitch- quirking up into a half-smile for a fraction of a second. And there was still that gleam in his green eyes as he continued to study Ontario like he was a prey animal, staying silent all the while. The eastern province was more than a little disturbed by this- and it was unnerving him to the point where all of his questions had dribbled out of his brain and onto the floor.

Finally he managed to work up the gumption to speak, though his voice was barely a whisper.

"…Saskatchewan…" he croaked, throat suddenly dry, "Why….what are you doing here? What is this place?"

The expressionless face suddenly shifted, and Ontario couldn't help but feel like he was a small animal in the jaws of a bear, because Saskatchewan's face had a distinctively predatory vibe to it.

And then….

"Що ми робимо ? Це не твоя турбота , дурень."

And Ontario wanted to scream.

"Oh my god, please- please don't give me this. Please don't do this. Please don't play this game with me, Saskatchewan-"

The blonde just smirked at him, the thin line of his lips looking decidedly nasty.

"Don't play what game?" He asked sweetly, a cruel little gleam in his eyes, "Because I'm not playing any games, Onty. You came here with the sole intention of ruining my plans, and I'm afraid that's not something I can allow."

Ontario's eyes went wide.

"How did you-"

"I have my ways, but that's not really important right now. What is important is that I know everything you're up to. I know Alberta's here. I know she's picking all my locks. And I know that even if she does manage to get into the nerve center of our operation here, she won't have a clue what she's looking at."

He smiled cruelly, looking down at the ring on his finger with a huge grin before letting it fall by his side again. Ontario's eyes were drawn to it- it was just….disgustingly gaudy. Embedded with rhinestones, or something similar, in the shape of…well. There were green and silver ones, arranged in the shape of a sweeping **_S_** on a bevelled green rhombus.

"What's that for-"

"None of your damn business. It's…something I've been dreaming of all my life." The reply was characteristically flat once more, the intensity of his statement carried through in the man's eyes and nothing else.

If Ontario didn't know better, he'd have said that it was a Grey Cup ring. But that was stupid. The Canadian Football league was a prominent organization, sure…but Saskatchewan didn't have a team in that league. Actually, the province didn't have a team in anything of mention, really; save perhaps a few junior leagues here and there. But that ring looked for all the world like something Saskatchewan had had done up to look like the commemorative rings given out to the winners of the grey cup...for a team with an S in their logo.

There were no teams in the CFL with a logo in the shape of an _S._

But that wasn't the main issue. What mattered was that Saskatchewan…well, he knew Alberta was there, for a start, but that was hardly news at all. Personifications could sense other personifications on their soil, so he'd obviously know about his sister. But whatever it was he was doing here was clearly illegal, and Ontario had a sneaking suspicion he knew what was happening here.

But…

"..That ring." He said, deciding to test the waters and his theory all in one by asking about something that didn't matter, "Why did you get that gaudy thing, anyway? Is it for some college team down in the States-"

Saskatchewan's sudden sharp scowl surprised Ontario with its ferocity, and he immediately wished he hadn't spoken about it. But on closer inspection, what he'd thought to be rhinestones appeared to be-

"It's silver. With emeralds and opals. I had it made for me." He said flatly, "And no, it's not American. Not even _close."_

The mere mention, the mere suggestion that the ring might have some connection to the USA seemed to disgust his brother more than Ontario had expected. The final word he hissed out through clenched teeth, those bright green eyes narrowed to slits.

"It's something I should have had four fucking times over by now, Ontario. And now? Now, well, now we all get to pay the price."

"What fucking price?!" Ontario blurted, hysteria rising in his voice, "Saskatchewan, you better not be fucking refining-"

"So what if I am? And what the hell are you going to do about it, Ontario? Oh wait, I already know. You're going to do nothing. You're going to sit in that chair and not fucking move for the next three hours while everyone who ruined my life burns alive. And there's nothing you can fucking do about it, Ontario. Not _one fucking thing."_

Ontario gulped.

There was a certainty in his eyes. Saskatchewan wasn't saying that because he _thought_ those chains would hold Ontario or that the guards would keep him in place or anything like that; he was saying that because he _knew._ He _knew_ what was going to happen.

Or at least he thought he did.

Ontario rolled his eyes.

"Yeah, sure. And you're suddenly able to see the fucking future-"

"And the past. The past I wouldn't have normally been able to see. The past of everyone I want, anyone I choose. I know things, Ontario. I know I'm going to win today. I know my plan is going to work. I know I'm going to win, and I know what you're going to do to stop me: Nothing. Absolutely nothing. And you know what else I know?"

And then Saskatchewan, stone-faced Saskatchewan, smiled. Hugely. The grin of the fucking Joker on a man who spent his life embodying the concept of stoicism. Ontario shuddered.

"I know things about you. I know the things you like to do in the dark, Onty…And frankly, they disgust me. That they don't disgust _you_ is the part I'm surprised by. Maybe Manny was right this entire time. Maybe you really _are_ depraved. But why don't I tell you what you did three weeks ago, hmm?"

And Ontario, locked rigid and eyes wide with a cold horror he didn't even know possible was unable to move away as his younger fucking _brother_ moved in close and whispered something in his ear.

The effect was instantaneous.

"NO- NO, NO, NO, NO, NO, HOW THE FUCK- NO!" Ontario turned bright red, his stomach churning in fear and disgust and shame. His face had gone bright red in flaming, mortified shame- but this was coupled with a flaming sense of horror and discomfort.

It was his _brother_ saying the impossible to him, his _brother_ continuing to whisper the events of a night that he shouldn't- that he COULDN'T have known. Ontario was horrified, screaming in desperation for Saskatchewan to stop, please, oh fucking god, please, please, no more, PLEASE FUCKING STOP-

"Oh, are you a bit uncomfortable hearing me talk about this? Hmm. Wonder how I fucking felt when I had to watch that, eh? Fucking sick. _You_ are fucking sick. And the kick in the head is, _you fucking liked it._ "

Ontario went limp.

Saskatchewan just straightened up and dusted himself off.

"Anyway. I have more important things I need to do. Three hours 'till kickoff, Ontario. Pity you won't get to see it."

* * *

 _A/N:_

 _I'M SO SORRY TO ANYONE OUT THERE WHO CAN READ UKRANIAN_

 _I didn't have much choice in my use of google translate and will happily go back and change any and all dialogue to something more accurate if anyone wants to provide me translations. Aki, the friend of mine who supplies all the fabulous French and German for this story, doesn't speak Ukrainian, and I don't know anyone who does. If you do, and you want to contribute a less shit translation, I'd be happy to have it!_

 _Also I'm so sorry that it's been like half a fucking year_ _ **real life happened okay guys**_

 _Next chapter….um._


	5. Chapter 5

**CHAPTER FIVE**

* * *

"Jackpot…"

Alberta muttered to herself as she straightened up, stretching her back muscles to quell their loud and obnoxious protesting. She'd spent altogether too long hunched over the one unlocked filing cabinet in Doctor Summer's office, looking for….something, really. Anything that wasn't written in the impenetrable jargon of Nuclear Engineering.

If it wasn't Petrochemical, Alberta didn't give a shit.

Except this time, she was sort of forced to. Not that it made any difference- the file she'd found had nothing to do with reactor shielding or whatever the fuck they were doing, it was just a "welcome to your new job" kind of folder. It had fallen to the bottom of the drawer and had had been lying there for some time, if the layer of dust on it was any indication. Inside the folder was a printout of a map to the facility- or more accurately, a really shit photocopy whose quality time had not sweetened.

Still, now that Alberta had a crude map of the facility, she could make some headway in trying to find Ontario, and then- well, she still had that folder off the desk, the one with Sasky's handwriting. Ontario would know what the fuck any of that meant, she was sure of it. Alberta studied her map closely, finally finding what she sought down a certain hallway. A room just marked "interrogation area", which, yeah, that was totally a normal thing for a facility that was processing material to have. Of course.

And then Alberta glanced at the sheet immediately below the map- and her heart stopped.

Manitoba's face looked up at her, a crude black-and-white printout of him grinning goofily at the camera, a picture that had clearly been cropped to show just Manny. Her older brother's face was placed right next to a cold, clinical description of his physical attributes, his height (6'1") and-

And she was right below Manny.

The map and the rest of the folder fell to the ground as Alberta stared at her own picture on this sheet, a sheet marked "PHYISCIAL DESCRIPTION OF COMPROMISING INDIVIDUALS".

And-

And this was part of Doctor Summer's welcome package.

And she was there on that sheet. Alberta's face.

 _Caucasian female. Blonde Hair. Blue eyes. 6' 0" tall._

Alberta gulped, and crouched down to gather up the papers she'd splashed all over the floor, stuffing them all into the main folder and wrapping her arms around the bundle of paper. Really, she was crushing it to her chest more than anything else; but her heart was hammering out of her chest, and really, if she didn't- well, she was going to fucking scream.

The province knew full well she couldn't stay in this office any longer. They were on the lookout for personifications in this facility- not just personifications, but _provinces and territories._ Sasky was paranoid about _them_ finding out, so much so that he'd ensured one of his top scientists was provided with a full dossier of information on not just her, but the rest of her ramshackle "Family" too.

Fuck.

Really, that was the only word for it.

"Fuck."

Alberta flicked off the lights in the room, not even bothering to take a deep breath before she turned the door's handle and charged into the hallway. Any pause or hesitation and she'd have lost her nerve to leave. They were _looking for her._

Alberta started her trek down the hallway with her heart hammering in her chest, ears pricked up for the slightest sound of footfalls or anything else that would indicate someone coming after her.

Her alertness ended up paying off, big-time. The sound of an approaching guard patrol startled her slightly, and oh fuck were they getting close. There was a door off to the side there, and it seemed to have a keycard lock- in there. Yes. That'd work.

Alberta bit her lip, heart hammering as she fumbled her keycard at the locked door in front of her, completely at a loss for what to do if it failed. To her relief, the light flashed green silently, and she pushed the doorhandle down roughly and shoved her way inside, silently closing the door behind her. She waited there in the darkness, leaning against the door as the lock quietly re-engaged, just…listening. The footsteps outside drew close, and then…passed by, the patrol finally gone.

The blonde let out a long, shaky breath that she'd been holding, and turned around to survey the room she'd found herself in. There was a single dim bulb in the room that was currently on, illuminating…a mirror?

Alberta blinked. The bare bulb on its wire wasn't the only light in the room, really- there were others, tiny pinpricks of red and green in the darkness indicating a bank of…computers?

"What the-?"

It was that damn mirror he'd bought three fucking years ago, she dimly realized- the same one he'd spent a strange amount of time staring at in the shop. She'd teased him for his sudden narcissism, but- well, that dusty old thing had been wrapped in sackcloth back then. And here it was, mounted to a table, a half-length mirror with a plain golden frame and that same creepy emerald eye staring down at her. She approached the mirror curiously, a sense of foreboding churning in her guts.

Her reflection also walked forwards in perfect sync, its face also changing in time with Alberta's as they both realized the mirror itself was plugged in, a strange frame with USB ports and wires sticking out supporting it. Whatever Sasky had done to this mirror, he'd clearly decided it needed some technological upgrades.

As Alberta stepped up to the mirror, she quirked an eyebrow. Nothing about it seemed at all odd. It was….it was just a mirror. That was just her, there. Also with her head tilted in confusion, and also dressed up like a Doctor that she wasn't.

As she stood there, she noticed that someone had engraved some writing onto the front of the mirror frame itself, right at the top, underneath the creepy emerald eye. She couldn't make it out from that distance, so Alberta put it aside to stare at the machinery that Saskatchewan had seen fit to attach to the mirror.

"Well, this is stupid. Who the fuck takes a mirror and sticks a bunch of cables to it?"

The question hung in the silence, and Alberta continued to stare at her own reflection, as if that would….help…

…Hang on, did she just-

No, that- she wasn't imagining that. Her reflection just _winked_ at her.

Alberta staggered back a step, and her jaw dropped when her reflection failed to do the same. She- the one in the mirror-just stayed there, in the same position that she'd been in when she'd winked.

And then-

" _Hi."_

Alberta clapped a hand over her mouth, eyes as wide as dinner plates. What. What. WHAT.

"What the fuck. Holy shit. What the fuck. What the fuck. What the fuck-" she was whisper-shouting, panic rising inside her as her reflection- which at this point was just The Other Alberta- smiled and gave a friendly wave.

 _"_ _Hi. There's no need to panic, you know. I'm just here to help, and by help, I mean answer questions."_

Alberta's hand fell away from her mouth, slowly, hesitantly. There- there was a catch. There had to be.

"Have- Have I gone crazy?"

 _"_ _Nope. I'm real, I promise. Anything else you want to know?"_

Alberta's eyes narrowed.

"Alright, fine. What colour was an Albertosaurus?" She asked, folding her arms. If the mirror was going to be crazy at her, she was going to be crazy right fucking back.

 _"_ _Oh, that? It was greenish, but it's better if I just show you!"_ The mirror chirped, and to Alberta's shock, the image shifted, colours swirling around-

It looked like the mirror had just been turned to face something else, but that was clearly impossible. The thing in the mirror was an Albertosaurus, real and alive and stomping through the undergrowth. It wasn't some CGI reconstruction- it was a reflection of real light hitting _a real fucking Albertosaurus._

The massive carnivorous dinosaur was a vaguely mottled greenish colour, and Alberta watched in fascination, all her terror melting away into the same childlike wonder she felt every time she stepped into the Royal Tyrell Museum. The mirror was showing her something she could only ever dream of seeing- a real, live dinosaur, in its native habitat, displaying its true behaviour and the colours- all things that could only really be guessed at by looking at the bones.

"Can- Oh my god. Oh my god. Can you- wait, you're hooked up to a computer. Can you make me a copy of this somehow?!" she spluttered, staring at the dinosaur, positively giddy. It didn't really occur to Alberta the implications of her request, or the fact that she was essentially asking the mirror to make a home movie of something that happened millions of years in the past.

 _"_ _I certainly can,"_ the mirror said calmly, " _but I will require you to insert a USB into the slot on my pedestal. I believe your twin brother left one there earlier."_

Alberta was delighted, and skipped up to the pedestal, immediately jamming the USB into the little port just as the mirror asked. She hopped up and down impatiently, only to stop suddenly and reflect on what the mirror had just said.

"Wait, Sasky? Oh, shit. Can you copy that recording and answer a question at the same time?"

 _"_ _Why, certainly, miss. What would you like to know?"_

"Sasky. What the fuck's he doing here?"

 _"_ _He is building something rather unpleasant."_

The mirror's statement was plain and flat, lacking in any hints or indications. This time, it didn't show her anything, just retained her own reflection, smiling politely at her.

"Not gonna show me anything this time?" She said, scowling at the mirror.

" _No."_

"Any reason _why_ you're not gonna show me jack shit about this?" Alberta said, eyes narrowing as she stared into her own eyes with more than a hint of suspicion.

 _"_ _Your brother has ordered me not to tell you. I serve him first and foremost. I apologize."_

"Why the fuck's that, then?"

 _"_ _Emerald…eyes."_ The mirror seemed to choke on those words, the non-answer only serving to confuse Alberta even more.

Finally, after the mirror went dead silent for seemingly an entire minute, Alberta sighed.

"Well, fine then. If you're not gonna tell me anything I actually want to hear, where's Onty?"

Her reflection smiled at the new question, shifting the image once again to show Ontario chained to a chair and struggling to get free somewhere in the facility. The room was dark and dingy, and Alberta noted the presence of a man with a gun nervously.

"Okay. Wow. Um. Where's that room located?"

The image blurred, panning out to show a hallway-it stopped on the number by the door, giving her a good look at it. Then the image started to backtrack, panning its way along the hallway in reverse, until finally it stopped on the door to the room she herself was in.

Or in other words, Ontario was just down the hallway.

"Oh, fuck. Thanks-" Alberta started to say, only for the mirror to cut her off.

 _"_ _I can show you something else about Ontario, you know."_ The mirror offered, its voice that same sweet and jovial tone, _"He's said a few things about you behind your back. Things you've never been told. I can tell you anything you want to know, Miss Alberta."_

Alberta stopped dead. Ontario…She was supposed to be looking for him, but…well. The only reason she was even bothering with his wellbeing currently was because Ontario was the only one who would be able to read the papers she'd just found, and that was about it.

"…What kind of things?"

Her reflection smiled kindly, and then-

The image changed.

It was reflecting a meeting in a boardroom, something in Ottawa by the look of it- Ontario was there, and Canada and Quebec too-

And _Prime Minister Pierre Elliot Trudeau._

Alberta's blood pressure instantly ticked up a few notches at the sight of the former Prime Minister. Her eyes narrowed- not that fuckhead. Not again. She thought she'd seen the last of the elder Trudeau, and his industry-routing, poverty-bringing policies, the same policies that had brought her to her fucking knees when she should have been strongest.

And then Ontario spoke.

 _"…_ _Anyway, on to the main matter. How_ are _we going to pay for all this? I'd very much like Toronto's metro to receive an upgrade, and there's a few pet projects that I've got- nothing too serious, you understand."_

Canada's reflection from forty years ago nodded.

 _"_ _Well, of course Toronto should get that nice new metro. And hey, Montreal too, while we're at it. After all, the east is where the money and the power in this nation rightfully belongs; we should damn well act like it, eh?"_

Alberta's eyes went wide- and then she started to shake with pure, unfiltered rage.

Trudeau's reflection rose from his seat to address the meeting, and looked around the table fondly.

 _"_ _Gentlemen, the money is of no consequence. Ontario, you may have as much money as you please; after all, we've something of a surplus in the west, do we not?"_

Alberta's eyes went wide. No. No. GOD no. This- this couldn't- this-

Then Ontario's reflection smiled at the meeting and-

 _"_ _Well, yeah. Alberta's so rich- why should they have all that money, eh? Not like they ever do anything for anyone else. She doesn't deserve any of it, really; though I am glad she's as hardworking as she is. It means the gravy train will never stop rolling out of the west."_

Something in Alberta's brain broke. A small little valve, a final failsafe meant to keep her composure when dealing with indignation and rage. It snapped in half, blew like an overloaded fuse, and unleashed a century of repressed hatred and rage.

A red flush rose in her cheeks until she was the same colour as a stop sign, both her fists clenched. Ontario saw her like that, eh? Saw her as nothing more than a cash cow to be milked for money until the oil ran out? That was how Canada saw it?

 **"** **Is that how they ALL see me?"** She hissed through clenched teeth, not even as a question to the mirror, but more to herself.

The image shifted back to her reflection.

It nodded solemnly.

 _"_ _I'm afraid so, miss Alberta. That's the sad truth- you're nothing more to them than a cash machine. Well, not to Master Saskatchewan. He still thinks highly of you. But the rest of them? They regard you with concealed contempt and envy. And if I may offer a suggestion, Miss Alberta…I could propose a way to make them_ _ **all**_ _pay."_

Alberta stopped at that statement, eyes narrowing suspiciously.

"….Pay how?" she asked guardedly, eyes narrowed down to the thinnest of slits.

 _"_ _Why don't you ask your dear brother Saskatchewan when next you see him? I'm sure he'll be happy to…ah…donate one or two of his…ah….creations, shall we say, for your revenge. He still cares deeply for you, you know."_

Alberta just rolled her eyes in response.

"Whatever. I don't need anyone's fucking charity. I've got the fucking money to buy a brand new tank and drive it through Ontario's goddamn house, and whatever Sasky's got, I don't fucking need it. You done putting my dinosaur video on that USB yet?" she snarled, a flare of rage resurfacing as she ran Ontario's words over in her head again. Oh, she was gonna beat the _shit_ out of him when she found him…

 _"…_ _Yes, I have."_ The mirror's tone seemed to change, from its usual politeness to almost…disappointment? Whatever. It was…just some fucked-up black magic _thing_ that her brother had found at the bottom of a bin. She took a few steps forward and pulled the USB out of the pedestal, running her eyes over the writing she'd noticed when she'd first seen the mirror.

 _Des Lügners Verderben liegt im smaragden Käfig._

That was German, alright. But…wow, _smaragden?_ She'd never heard that word before...or at least not conjugated in that manner. Either way, that inscription was both really dramatic and old as balls.

Who the fuck was _The Liar?_

Whatever. Didn't matter. She had more important shit to do, like beating Ontario into a bloody fucking pulp. Hell, Sasky had even done her a favour; he was all trussed up and unable to run away. Alberta grinned and cracked her knuckles eagerly as she turned her back to her reflection, stomping out of the room intent on pulverizing her brother.

The door swung closed behind her and relatched itself with a faint click.

And in the darkness, the mirror chucked to itself, a cruel smile on its stolen face.

* * *

 _A/N: Jesus fuck, I'm so sorry that I've been updating this shit with the frequency that Mount Fuji erupts, but like, life. Life, and university, and an almost-full course load have all conspired to dick me over a fence again._

 _Anyway, as always, if you liked it, if you hated it, give me a shout and let me know your thoughts. Reviews are love, reviews are life._


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter Six**

* * *

 _One year ago…_

 _"_ _TOUCHDOOOOOOOWN!"_

 _"_ _YESSSSSS!"_

 _"_ _Fuck!"_

 _Ontario was sat on the couch next to Nova Scotia and New Brunswick, all three enraptured in the football game unfolding on the TV screen before them._

 _"_ _FUCK YEAH! SUCK MY DICK, ONTY! FUCK THE ROUGH RIDERS!" Nova Scotia bellowed, getting up off the sofa to do a little dance as the CFL players who'd just scored joined him._

 _Ottawa's team was playing Halifax's, the Rough Riders versus the Atlantic Schooners, and the Schooners has just scored a tidy little touchdown. The kilted province danced with his sister as Ontario, ever the gracious loser, merely smiled on to hide his annoyance._

 _"_ _Well, that's fine, I guess." Ontario said, shaking his head. "Not like the Rough Riders are anything special. Pile of garbage, really- we all know it. The Ticats are_ _ **my**_ _team!"_

 _"_ _Glad we're in agreement, then. Oh, hi Sasky! You wanna join us, bro?" Scottie asked, turning over his shoulder to look at the green-shirted farmer scooting past._

 _Saskatchewan turned, green eyes looking at the TV and narrowing._

 _"…_ _Sure thing." he said quietly, face not shifting an inch as he walked over and settled in between Ontario and Nova Scotia._

 _It was a little odd having him there, especially in that strange shirt- It had a bizarre symbol on the front of it, a bevelled green rhombus with swooping lines bisecting it and a huge white S overlaid on top. It certainly looked very nice, though it also looked like something Saskatchewan had made himself._

 _"_ _What's the thing on your shirt, Sasky? New logo for the tourism board, eh?"_

 _Saskatchewan just grunted in reply, his expressionless face not moving. Again, it was weird- he usually wore polo shirts, or one of those branded T-shirts that all seemed to have something to do with John Deere. This logo Ontario had never seen before was something else. Something strange._

 _The game went on, and the Schooners scored yet another touchdown. Nova Scotia and his sister predictably celebrated, and Ontario looked on in mild disapproval. And Saskatchewan? Well, he just sat there, stone-faced and silent as things happened around him._

 _Then Nova Scotia did something silly. He flopped on the couch next to Saskatchewan, all smiles, and punched him in the arm, grinning his victory._

 _"_ _Heh, bet you wish you had a team too, eh Sask?" He said, highfiving his sister._

 _Nova Scotia had his head turned to look at New Brunswick, and so he failed to see the downright murderous gleam in Saskatchewan's eye in response to that comment._

 _When Nova Scotia turned back, Saskatchewan was smiling._

 _It was a small smile, nothing too outrageous, and without warning, Saskatchewan wrapped an arm over Nova Scotia's shoulder and pulled him in close, all chummy-like._

 _The small hairs on the back of the Maritimer's neck stood on end. There was something seriously, seriously wrong here._

 _"_ _I do wish I had a team, Scottie. I do! Such fun, eh? Fun and games. What a joy. And I bet YOU wish your primary export wasn't Nova Scotians off to work Allie's oil patch, eh?"_

 _Nova Scotia gaped, his excitement from the game draining out of him as Sasky's words took hold in his mind. He was about to snap something in reply about how Sasky ought to mind his manners, when the farmer steamrolled over him and just kept on talking._

 _"_ _Wonder what it's like, to be able to afford one, eh? Wish the government gave ME money for not working and being unemployed, so I could go off and build a stadium for my team. I wish I was as lucky as you, Scottie, I really do. Did ya find your black players in the rubble of Africville, big bro? Amazed you can tolerate having them on the roster, what with YOUR track record-"_

 _"_ _SASKATCHEWAN! Will you fucking knock it off!?" New Brunswick was scowling, truly on the precipice of real outrage. She pulled Nova Scotia away from the farmer, glaring daggers at him. Blue eyes met green, and Nova Scotia looked truly hurt behind his glasses, his face pale and expression injured._

 _"_ _Hmm? Oh? Am I being mean? Sorry, Brunsie. Did the voices in your head tell you to yell at me, or did they cheer me on? I bet the French one was cheering me on, seems like a thing the Frenchie might do. You know what they call humans who start hearing voices, Brunsie? They call 'em schizo. Maybe you oughta see a doctor about that."_

 _New Brunswick was agape, about to lash back and defend herself and her brother. Ontario reached out and grabbed his brother's shoulder, pulling him away from the two maritime provinces, a scowl sketching itself onto his face._

 _"_ _What the FUCK, Saskatchewan?! You're being an asshole. Apologize!" Ontario snapped._

 _"_ _Hmm? Apologize? ME?! Oh, that's rich, coming from you, Onty. When have you apologized for anything, little prince? You lord over all of us, Canada's golden boy, Canada's chosen one! Did YOU apologize to ME when you went whining to Canada that nobody was buying your shitty farm equipment, and then HE turned around and jacked up the tarrifs on the good US equipment so I and every other farmer in this country had to buy YOUR garbage? Of course you didn't, little prince. Why would you? You already decide every election in this so-called democracy, the deck is forever stacked in your favour…when have you EVER apologized for anything to ANYONE, Ontario? When?"_

 _Saskatchewan stopped talking abruptly, smiling coldly at his brother and reaching up to ruffle Ontario's hair. It was…just so bizarre. There was a look in those green eyes, a look of cold hatred that Ontario could hardly understand. Ontario shuddered at the touch, jerking away from his younger brother reflexively._

 _And with that, Saskatchewan stood up and left, silence filling the room in his wake._

* * *

Ontario's heart skipped ten beats when the door slammed open.

The guard in the room with him was more than a little startled by the sudden intrusion, and it seemed like he hadn't been properly drilled on what to do if someone from _outside_ broke their way _in._ By the time he'd fumbled his gun up and into position, the shadowy figure had grabbed it by the barrel and ripped it out of his grip with an inhuman strength. The guard immediately toppled over in fright, which didn't stop them from ripping out the machine gun's magazine and grasping the barrel of the gun like a club.

All Ontario heard was a nasty cracking noise as the gun's butt slammed into the guard's head.

"A- Alberta?!"

The silhouette turned to look at him.

 **"** **You."**

That….was not a reply Ontario had been expecting.

There was nothing but hate in that single word. Hate for him. It was Alberta- that was her voice for certain-

She stomped over to him, flinging the machine gun away so hard that when it struck the cinderblock wall, it struck with the sound of cracking brick.

"Alberta, what's going on!? What the hell are you-"

 **"** ** _SHUT THE FUCK UP."_**

Okay, that was a little bit rude-

And then Alberta's fist smashed into Ontario's nose.

He screeched in pain and surprise, the sickly crunch and torrent of blood that sprang up doing nothing to help his shock. That wasn't a playful punch- there was absolutely no restraint at all in her swings. She was hitting him at full strength, at full force, with the sole intent of _hurting him._

"STOP! ALBERTA, PLEASE, ST-"

 **"** **SHUT THE FUCK UP! SHUT UP, SHUT UP, SHUT UP AND FUCKING TAKE IT! YOU THEIVING LITTLE RAT BASTARD! FUCK YOU! FUCK YOU** ** _ALL THE WAY TO HELL!"_**

Alberta's fist was a flash in the darkness that slammed into Ontario's face again and again, the light of the door the only thing illuminating the scene as she beat him again and again and again.

"ALBERTA- PLEASE- **_I'M SORRY!"_**

Ontario screamed in desperation and fear, terrified as to what had possessed his sister. Alberta's temper was fiery, sure, but this? This was above and beyond whatever passed for normal with her.

The fist above him halted. It hesitated, for just a moment- and Ontario wasn't going to waste it.

"Alberta, please- I'm sorry. Whatever it was, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry-"

"SHUT THE FUCK UP. OH, I KNOW IT'S OLD FUCKING NEWS NOW, BUT GUESS WHAT I JUST SAW, ONTY?! **_GUESS WHAT I JUST SAW?!_** I SAW YOUR LITTLE POWWOW WITH MISTER FUCKING PIERRE ELLIOT! I SAW THAT SHIT YOU PULLED BEHIND MY FUCKING BACK _FORTY FUCKING YEARS AGO-"_

"What shit?! What meeting- I never-Alberta, stop screaming! They're going to fucking hear you!"

"I DON'T CARE! YOU- YOU FUCKING SNAKE! YOU WENT BEHIND MY BACK! YOU FUCKING-"

 **"** ** _HE'S BUILDING_** ** _NUCLEAR BOMBS!"_**

Alberta froze in place, fist lowering, looking down at Ontario with wide, incredulous eyes.

"He's- What?!" She croaked, hatred all but forgotten in response to the utter insanity that had just come out of Ontario's mouth.

"He's building- I don't know if he's actually gone and done it, but this facility- The canisters in the truck. That wasn't Sulfur Hexafluoride. That was **_Uranium_** _hexafluoride._ This facility is refining uranium. And- Alberta, I- He's building nukes. There's no other reason to keep the refinement of uranium a secret. He's building nukes, he's building-"

Alberta's eyes went wide as she listened to Ontario's babbling. Slowly she released the front of his shirt, balled fabric smoothing back out as gravity took hold. She didn't know what he was talking about with the chemicals, but- nukes. Her twin brother was building _nuclear weapons._

Alberta took a step back, mind reeling.

The radiation symbols on the pipes. The remoteness of the facility. The welcome package containing a description of her fellow provinces and territories. The grouse on the poster. The armed guards.

Doctor Summers. Nuclear physicist. With several certificates from the US Army Corps of Engineers in her office.

Saskatchewan was a uranium producer. It was mined, milled, and processed here.

There was no two ways about it. How could she possibly have missed it?

Her twin brother was building nuclear weapons.

* * *

A/N:

 _That is not dead which can eternal lie, and with strange aeons even death may surely die._

 _So says me, reviving a fic that I ain't updated for nearly a fucking year. Whoops. Yeah, I know, I know, but in my defense, I had school and shit._

 _Anyway, this chapter is the triumphant return of Pigskin Mirror. I'm not as sure of the ending of this thing as I was the ending of West Wind, but y'know. Stay tuned._

 _Hopefully that reveal was somewhat worth the wait._

 _Also: I should mention that all the nuclear physics in this fic are as correct as I can make them. And I will be explaining what Saskatchewan was doing with all that Hex in future, promise ;)_

 _Let me know your thoughts! Leave a review if you liked it, hated it, or want me to go and drink some Uranium Hexafluoride myself!_


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter Seven**

* * *

 ** _One year earlier…_**

 _Saskatchewan watched from the next room as Quebec stood on the couch, crowing his victory at the top of his lungs in French. The tallest province grabbed the bulky, stitched-on logo blazoned on his jersey, shaking it a few times to punctuate his point. The point he was triumphantly shouting in the face of a despondent BC, slumped into her spot on the chesterfield._

 _Saskatchewan turned, letting the Montreal Alouettes celebrate their Grey Cup win on the television, turning his back to the jovial scene in the family room. The room was packed with people, as it always was during the Grey Cup final; even the territories were present, although Saskatchewan suspected they were just there for the free food._

 _He clenched his teeth as he listened to Quebec cheer, turning and walking away. He walked up the steps up towards the bedrooms, turning and retracing the path to his own room and closing the door behind himself. The sound from downstairs wasn't entirely muffled, but it would have to do._

 _Saskatchewan's room was painted a soft green, fairly sparse in its decorations. Beyond a bookshelf and a couple of paintings, there wasn't much hanging from the walls of his room._

 _He opened his closet door, jaw clenched tight and eyebrows drawn into a tight scowl, green eyes flicking up to look into the depths of his closet. He shoved the row of hanging coats aside, revealing a mirror, hanging from the back wall of his closet. Saskatchewan looked into the eyes of his own reflection, free hand reaching over to flick on the lighting inside the closet so he could get a better look at himself._

 _He glanced, not for the first time, at the German inscription along the top, and then back down at the face smiling at him from his mirror._

 _"_ _Show me the 'Riders again." He said flatly, "Show me what should have been mine. And when you're done that, show me the man who_ _ **stole them from me."**_

* * *

Alberta opened her mouth to ask the next most obvious question in response to Ontario's bombshell, only for the elder province to cut her off.

"We don't have much time. I think- from the way Saskatchewan was talking, I don't think he's _building_ nuclear weapons. I think he's _built_ nuclear weapons. And we have- I think he's actually going to fucking launch them. He's going to actually launch a nuclear missile." Ontario said, his voice creeping upwards in pitch as he started to panic. He started thrashing against his restraints desperately. He had no idea what he was gonna do, but- hhe had to do _something._ Even if Saskatchewan was conducting just a _test_ of a nuclear weapon on Canadian soil, that was already a HUGE problem for them when it came to international relations. They had to shut this operation down, and they had to shut it down now.

Alberta looked over the chair Ontario was restrained to, finding a switch and flipping it to free him from the shackles that kept him tied down, parka and all. There was still blood dripping down his face from where she'd broken his nose, something Alberta hadn't forgotten. After they'd dealt with Sasky's insanity, then she could beat the everloving shit out of Ontario. First things first, though: prevent World War Three.

"Okay, so…" She said, offering a hand to help him to his feet, "What's the plan, then? You actually know a thing or two about this nuclear shit, I'm just- Dude, I'm oil and gas. I don't know shit about this." Alberta was fighting to keep her own voice calm, thoughts racing.

"We need to…Oh, god. Oh god. Alberta, we've got less than three hours and I don't even know _where_ the fucking weapons stockpile is, let alone how to possibly disable it. I- There's likely to be a central terminal where the launch order is routed through, to get to all the individual silos, but- No. No buts. We need to cripple that terminal, make sure the launch order doesn't- But I don't even know if he's automated the process or-"

"He's automated it." Alberta said with certainty in her voice, "Sasky's the mechanization man. Have you seen his farm? The first chance he had to ditch his horse-drawn equipment, he upgraded. Trust me, if he really did build nukes and he really is going to launch them, they're all networked into something. There is no way he's got a roomful of nerds all tapping in individual launch codes…Besides, this whole thing is supposed to be super-duper secret. How the fuck are you gonna hush up all of mission control?"

Ontario nodded. "Then we've got a chance. I just- I have no idea how we're going to- I have a good idea what to do, but I have no idea where to go or, or, or anything-" He started to tug on his hair, pacing back and forth as his mind raced.

"…Well, I… I don't know exactly where we need to go. I also have no idea what you're going on about. But, um…" Alberta reached up to adjust her cowboy hat, frowning when she realized it wasn't there.

"Um what? We don't have time for "um" right now!"

"Shut up, you fucking- Just shut up. I'm just, you're not gonna believe me until we get there. But just, remember that creepy fucking mirror Saskatchewan bought years ago? Yeah. That thing. Turns out it's-" Alberta's voice petered out as she looked Ontario up and down, and then over at the guard she'd rammed with the butt of his own gun.

"I- take that guard's outfit and get changed," she said, "I already look like I belong. Just- get changed. I know how we can pull this off, but you have to trust me." She said, taking a deep breath.

God help them all.

* * *

Ontario's mind was racing as he pulled the guard's uniform on over his head. He'd still been alive, thank all that was good and holy, but Alberta had really done a number on him. He was out cold.

The uniform was imposing black, but it had a strange genericness to it; Ontario had a feeling these uniforms were quite possibly secondhand, or bought off a liquidator. The patch on the shoulder said ENFORCEMENT instead of SECURITY, which, um, what? Regardless, the guard's uniform barely fit him; then again, Ontario was something of a giant, well over six feet tall; so it was highly unlikely that any standard guard's uniform would fit him that well. He had to get most of his own clothes tailored for him; there wasn't a lot he could just pluck off the rack and wear.

Alberta's back was turned, staring at the far wall as she waited patiently for him to get dressed, but a thought occurred to her as she stood there, eyebrows flying up.

"Your face." Alberta said, interrupting his reverie as he slipped the bulletproof vest on, "I- your nose. You gotta-"

"Yeah, yeah, I know," he muttered, reaching up and grabbing the injured part and gritting his teeth.

Ontario let out a whine of agony as he twisted his broken nose back into place, a move he'd had to do many times before after hockey fights turned nasty. He was still bleeding pretty bad too, and there were gashes across his forehead- Alberta had a fucking nasty right hook, and he still wanted to know what the fuck had gotten into her that had made her so utterly insane.

Ontario took a deep breath. Okay, so he had a choice to make. He _could_ force-heal the wounds on his face. He could do that. But then, that would mean that he wouldn't have access to his true strength for…A while. It was never entirely clear how long that was, which is why personifications generally avoided force-healing injuries from their own kind. The other thing is that it always damped his ability to hear his people and the land's song, which, for a personification, was…well, it was a bit like suddenly losing half your hearing.

But he didn't exactly have a choice. Alberta had some way of finding out where the central sever bank was. Or whatever Saskatchewan was using to co-ordinate the launch controls of…whatever the fuck he was working on. Ontario wasn't 100% sure that it was nuclear missiles, but the more he thought about it, the more likely that possibility became.

Which, well.

Nuclear Armageddon versus at most a couple days of discomfort.

No contest, really.

He grabbed hehis nose, still painfully tender and throbbing, and closed his eyes. Ontario took a deep breath, channelling his might through his hands and into the wounds on his face. He focused on the thundering of his people's hearts, a cacophony of thundering patter like raindrops hitting a kettle drum. He channelled all his strength into the injuries, feeling a faint tickling as they sealed up, as his broken nose twisted itself back into place, the bone knitting itself back together, the fractures mending and the skin sealing up, good as new.

When Ontario finally released his face, he staggered back, taking a few deep breaths and looking dizzy. Force-healing was the absolute worst, because now he felt…muffled. The cacophony of heartbeats had faded from the thundering in his ears to a barely-perceptible rumble in the distance, something he had to strain his mind's ears in order to "hear".

It wasn't helping him get his balance back, at any rate. A hand planted itself on his shoulder- Alberta was behind him, helping him steady himself as he recovered.

"You good?" she said, holding up the gun the guard was holding. It really wasn't in very good shape; the barrel wasn't bent, but the plastic on the one side was interlaced with a web of cracks where Alberta had flung it at the wall. She looked somewhat guilty; and well she fucking should. Now only one of them was at full strength, all because she'd gone and gotten a bee in her fucking bonnet.

"Better." He replied, taking the weapon from her and slinging it over his shoulder. "So...what, exactly, is the plan?"

"Follow me and keep your head down. Oh, and...you might want this." Alberta offered the guard's earpiece, helping Ontario get it arranged so it looked like it was proper, then offering him the guard's slightly scuffed sunglasses.

Ontario looked down at himself, taking in the too-small uniform, the cracked weapon, the broken glasses.

"We're so fucking screwed."

* * *

 _A/N: Heyyy! It's an update! God, I feel so retro, updating this frequently. What is this, 2015? Well, no. And just like 2015 this is probably crap but ohhhh wellll._

 _This isn't the heaviest chapter, but as I've said in the past, like a tire patch kit on the Trans-Canada, it'll keep us rolling._

 _As always, if you liked it, leave a review! Helps me know I'm not just shouting into the void. Next chapter up tomorrow or the day after!_


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter Eight**

* * *

Ontario could hardly believe their luck. The room Alberta had been babbling about was just down the hallway, which, what the fuck was with Saskatchewan's layout for this place. It made zero sense, but then…looking at this facility, it was pretty apparent that Saskatchewan hadn't built the facility's external shell himself. This concrete complex reeked of a Cold War installation, forced upon the Canadian government of the time by a paranoid US, rightly afraid of nuclear weapons falling on their heads. So, then the bizzarechitecture made some semblance of sense; retrofitting a massive monitoring station for his own purposes would lead to some questionable choices.

They'd lucked out with the lack of guard patrols at that precise moment; the facility seemed to be rather quiet, all things considered. Ontario wasn't sure why the place seemed so tranquil, but that just meant that everyone was probably someplace else, all together. Somewhere highly inconvenient for their little infiltration mission, no doubt.

Alberta flashed her keycard at the lock on a nondescript door, twisting the handle and ducking inside without a second's hesitation. Ontario ducked in immediately after, already feeling like an idiot in his poorly-fitting, stolen uniform. It was very, very obvious that it wasn't his, and the minute anyone got a close look, they'd surely know he wasn't one of theirs.

"I need a better disguise," he muttered as he closed the door behind them and twisted the little knob to lock it, before turning back around and quirking an eyebrow. The room was lit by a single lightbulb, hanging from a bare wire; so that was plenty creepy. Lights from a bank of computers blinked in the darkness just beyond the bulb, and Ontario could hear the quiet whirring of their fans as something chugged away.

That wasn't what was the main focal point of the room, though. Bathed in the light of that one solitary bulb was that fucking mirror, gleaming malevolently.

"The mirror?!" He said, whipping his head to look at Alberta and snarling, "You're actually kidding me. That creepy mirror. Why- why the hell are we here? Have you lost your mind?!"

Alberta shook her head, marching up to the mirror and gesturing for Ontario to follow. He scowled and followed her; what other option did he have?

"We have less than three hours to save the world from nuclear Armageddon, and here you are fucking around with a creepy mirror. No. Great. Wonderful. Why the fuck does that German up there say?" he snapped, pointing at the words etched into the frame of the mirror. His reflection scowled back at him, pointing just as he was.

Alberta blinked. "It, um, it's kinda old? It says, uh… "The Liar's ruin lies in the emerald cage." Your guess is as good as mine." She shrugged, not sure who the fuck had bothered to carve that into the mirror's frame or why. Alberta's attention was fixed on her own reflection. She waved at it; mirror-Alberta waved back.

Several seconds passed, and Ontario was just about to ask what the hell Alberta was playing at, when she interrupted the words he hadn't yet formed.

"I…Something's wrong. It should…Maybe it can't handle two people?" She said, stepping off to the side and looking over. "Do you see anything?"

Ontario scowled and looked at her, away from his reflection.

"No. I just see me. Scowling. At how stupid this is. We're prancing around in front of a goddamned mirror while YOUR crazy twin is threatening to end life as we fucking know it-"

He glanced back at the mirror- and Ontario's eyes went wide. He staggered back in shock, a wordless noise of surprise escaping his lips.

"I-"

Mirror-Ontario wasn't staring back at him in terror. No, he was smiling calmly, politely, looking at Ontario with interest. Ontario waved frantically; _his reflection didn't wave back._

"Oh my god. Oh- Oh my god. What- What is this?! **What is this fucking abomination?!"** Ontario whisper-shouted, glancing over at Alberta and then back at the mirror.

 _"_ _There's no need to panic."_ **The mirror was talking to him** _._ It was talking to him using his own voice, his own voice was talking calmly back at him, and Ontario was two seconds from slamming his fist into the reflective glass to try and kill this fucking abomination-

 _"_ _I'm simply here to answer your questions. I can't hurt you in the slightest."_ The mirror continued, and Ontario relaxed. A little.

"I- I'm- Fine. Alright. Sure. Whatever. Am I going crazy?"

 _"_ _No, you are of sound mind."_

"Sure. Alright. Fine. Is there- Is there any special rules to the questions I can ask? What's the catch? What's the price?" He spluttered, glancing over at Alberta- and his eyes narrowed.

 _"_ _There is no catch. I am simply here to answer any questions you may have, truthfully and correctly. Anything you want to know. Past, present, or future. There is no cost for my services. I am here to serve you."_ The mirror's voice was calm and careful and measured, and Ontario swallowed some of his panic. Something nasty was prickling in his guts. He had a sneaking suspicion that he knew precisely why Alberta had gone apeshit on him.

"Alright. Fine. First question. Are there nuclear warheads in this facility, and if so, what kind are they?" He said sharply, quashing his own personal quabbles in the name of not letting the fucking world come to an end.

The mirror-Ontario said nothing in reply. Instead, the image in the mirror shifted, as though the mirror had been physically turned to reflect something instead of Ontario; the colours sharpening and solidifying, making a picture far more real than any video camera.

Ontario gasped. Reflected in the mirror was a missile, shiny and new, a pointed spearlike tip for piercing the atmosphere and reaching the edge of space. The weapon wasn't as big as a Minuteman 3, the kind that America had a good many of; but the reflection of the weapon gave Ontario a good idea of its capacity and capabilities. That warhead could melt a fucking city if Saskatchewan launched it; and it was an ICBM. Who knew how far that thing would fucking fly if he let it loose? Who knew what its intended target was?

It was with a note of hysteria that Ontario noticed the writing on the nosecone. It was backwards, at least to him; but then, it was being reflected in a mirror. It took the province a couple of seconds to sort out what the backwards letters said, and once he had, he nearly started laughing.

CFL 4. SCHOONER CLASS.

What the fuck!? Why the hell was this one named after a fucking football team?!

"It's saying stuff, right?"

Ontario whipped his head away from the mirror to look at Alberta, incredulous. She couldn't hear this!?

"Alright, alright. I just can't hear anything from over here, is all. I guess it's talking, though. Sorry to interrupt."

Ontario shook his head, looking back at the mirror. The image had changed back to the placid reflection of Ontario, still smiling out at the real deal politely.

"I- sorry. What?! Oh, god- What's Saskatchewan- they're really real? He's really built- Has he actually built nuclear warheads? No, no- Don't answer that. I already know the answer." Ontario took a deep breath and steeled himself to ask the next question, one he didn't want to know the answer to.

"…How many bombs has he built?" He asked quietly.

Mirror-Ontario smiled.

 _"_ _This facility currently houses forty-one intercontinental ballistic missiles. They all use refined uranium as their primary explosive."_

Ontario gaped. Forty-one nukes.

"Well- Well what the fuck's he going to do with them?!"

The mirror, again, didn't respond. The colour swirled, and-

Ontario clapped a hand over his mouth, eyes going wide.

A map of North America, pinned to an office wall. Both Canada and the US, shown in full. And- circles. Red circles. Over forty-one separate cities.

Toronto. New York. Dallas. Calgary. Hamilton. Edmonton. Montreal.

Ontario's heart stopped.

 ** _OTTAWA._** ** _WASHINGTON DC._** Halifax. Vancouver.

Forty-one cities across the continent with millions of humans in them. All circled in red on a giant corkboard, in Canada and the US. Hundreds of millions of people would die today if Ontario didn't do something to stop it.

His younger brother had gone completely insane.

"I- oh god. Oh, oh god, oh god, oh god-" Ontario was shaking, terror flooding his veins. What if his harebrained plan didn't work. What if- What if Saskatchewan had adequate backup systems. What if disabling it wasn't as simple as ripping the right box of fibre-optic cables off the wall and smashing it to pieces?

"I- oh god. Oh god almighty. Oh no…" He whispered softly, cradling his head in his hands.

 _"_ _Do you have any more questions for me? If you would like, I can show you why Alberta lost her mind on you earlier…"_

The mirror's tone when it made its little offer was enough to get Ontario glaring at it. It sounded fucking smug. How the hell did it know that Alberta had beat the shit out of him?

"No." Ontario snarled, "You're going to shut the fuck up about that, you- I'm sure you had something to do with it, something you're not going to tell me. And you know what? I actually don't fucking care. I have about two hours to save half the population of North America, and quite frankly, _I don't fucking care._ So you're going to show me, right now, the exact weak point in the chain of command here. Where does the order to fire get distributed to each individual silo, where EXACTLY in this facility do I go, and how do I best go about disabling it?" Ontario snapped.

The mirror scowled at him. His reflection actually seemed actively annoyed by the question, frowning at him and grumbling its response.

 _"_ _Master Saskatchewan has a double redundancy in the wiring of the system. The primary weak point would be this particular fibre-optic cable on the wall near his office,"_ the mirror grumbled, shifting the image to show Ontario a nondescript steel tube mounted at the top of the wall, at the corner between the wall and the ceiling, trailing down the hallway towards, presumably, the missile silos. It looked like the wiring had been added as an afterthought, like that particular wall had never been designed with CAT-5 ethernet cables in mind.

 _"_ _All it would take to disable the primary system would be to sever the cables."_

"And the second system? Come on, hurry the fuck up, I don't have all day-"

 _"_ _There is a server bank located not too far from this room. That bank is not connected to the internet and is responsible for controlling most of the operations here. It also doubles as the dissemination point for the launch codes in the event of a failure in the direct lines-however it will take several hours to issue a launch command from this server. Again, smashing the bank apart or shooting it should be sufficient, although the weight of each server cabinet is prohibitively heavy."_

Ontario nodded. "Alright-"

"Get it to print a map with the locations marked." Alberta said firmly, "It made me a video of an albertosaurus, and it's hooked up to those computers back there. I'm sure there's a printer in here."

Ontario nodded again, firmly. "Alright. Can you print us two maps of the facility with the locations marked on it, and- and a picture of our objectives?" He said, looking firm. Yes. There was some hope. They had a plan and there was some hope.

The mirror grumbled. Ontario's reflection was scowling back at him, but it grudgingly did as he asked. The sound of printing paper filled the small room, a printer somewhere in the darkness spitting out the requested maps.

"So, there's two points of failure?" Alberta said, just to confirm to herself more than anything else, "We'll need to split up if you want to take them out at the same time. Which one do you want to-"

"I'll take the server bank." Ontario said firmly, nodding his head. That left Alberta to take down the main cable outside Saskatchewan's office. There was a reason; Ontario wasn't at all confident in this stupid, ill-fitting disguise, and they had to make a priority of the cables.

"So I'm gonna be taking…?"

"Ask the mirror. It'll show you exactly what you need to destroy. I'd- find a fire axe or something and smash the pipe open, rip out the cables and just- make sure it's good and fucking ruined. I'll go into the server bank and- well, I'll pray to god this gun still works. Sound like a plan?"

Alberta nodded, and then looked away.

"…What if I bump into Sasky?" She said quietly, "You said you met him. Is he-"

Ontario paused and bit his lower lip. Alberta was worried about her twin.

"…Don't let him see you." Ontario replied flatly, "Just…I know you're worried about him, but right now, we…You can't let him see you."

Alberta's face fell, and she nodded slowly. "Yeah. Alright."

The sound of the printer stopped, and Ontario went fumbling into the darkness to collect the two precious sheets of paper. As he was feeling his way down the bank of computers, Alberta's voice broke the silence once more.

"…Don't they usually lock server rooms?" she asked, tilting her head.

"Uh, yes? They generally lock up anything worth a good sum of money, and a server bank isn't cheap. Why?"

"'Cause I'm pretty sure it'll be locked. You're taking my keycard." Alberta said firmly.

"And you? What will you do if there's a locked door between you and the cables?" Ontario asked as he pulled the papers free, "Because your task is a lot more important than mine. Those cables are the primary carrier for the launch signal-"

Alberta smirked and pulled the snap gun case out of the pocket of her lab coat. "Don't worry. I got a little somethin' less than legal that'll let me slip past any doors that try to get in my way."

Ontario shook his head. "If you're sure. I'm not even going to ask what's in that little box." He offered the map to Alberta, letting her look it over and then making his way to the door.

"We don't have much time. I'll leave first. You wait a few minutes and then go, got it?" He said, donning the scuffed sunglasses and folding the paper up so he could hide it in one of the pockets of his uniform. Alberta nodded and offered him the keycard, which he gladly took.

Ontario took a deep breath and twisted the doorhandle, keycard safely in his pocket, and stepped out into the hallway, letting the door click closed behind him.

Silence filled the room, and Alberta stood behind the door, back to the mirror, counting slowly in her head up to sixty. Each time she hit it, she extended a finger; once her whole hand was splayed, she too took a deep breath and forged on into the hallway.

The door clicked closed, and the reflection in the mirror changed. For the last five minutes it had been showing the backs of Alberta and Ontario, only for both of them to turn around, staring at the door. Both of them with shining green eyes.

 _"_ _I hate them,"_ the mirror hissed to itself, Ontario's mouth moving as it narrowed his glowing green eyes, _"They forced my hand. They're going to ruin it. They're going to spoil our little puppet's moment of glory. They're going to-"_

 _"_ _Don't fret,"_ Alberta's reflection interrupted, _"They're not going to ruin anything. The future is never set in stone, don't you know? And it's always the same old story with these mortal fools; I may be omnipotent, but they aren't. And it's the questions unasked that always come back to bite them in the ass."_

* * *

 _A/N: Told you this story was back for realises. Not a lot to comment on this chapter._

 _Hopefully you liked it! Do me a favour and leave a review. Just one person saying something about the chapter makes a huge difference to my motivation to keep writing for it. West Wind spiralled into a crazy epic precisely because of the huge amount of feedback I got, even after numerous hiatuses caused by real life and stress._

 _So yeah. Tell me your thoughts!_


	9. Chapter 9

**CHAPTER NINE**

* * *

 ** _Four years earlier…_**

 _Saskatchewan's smile went from mean to downright evil as he stared at his computer screen._

 _The website in front of him was showing a list of the stocks and shares he'd purchased, letting him buy and sell with a simple click of the mouse. It was so easy for fools to lose their money gambling on the whims of the stock market, but he had a little trick up his sleeve._

 _Saskatchewan glanced at his watch, tracking the second hand around the circle as he kept his cursor over a specific set of stocks. It wasn't just one; he'd bought several thousand of them three months ago when the prices were at rock bottom, and in the next thirty seconds-_

 _He clicked the button to dump the lot of them, every single one flooding back onto the global market. All snapped up in tenths of a second by individuals and companies who had no idea what they'd just done to themselves._

 _At 17:50:38 PM, CST, the price of stocks in Crowsnest Advertizing Specialists had just hit its all-time high. He'd just made hundreds of thousands of dollars, the absolute maximum amount of capital he could have possibly made off that specific transaction._

 _Silently he checked his list, glancing down the row of stocks he'd bought over the last three months, the exact date and time to sell beside each, marked down to the second. One of them, that he'd have to wake up at 2 AM tomorrow to dump, was about to push his personal wealth well past the point of decency. He was about to have_ _ **far**_ _more money than his sister Alberta, and she owned a major stake in dozens of oil companies._

 _He flipped a page in his plain little notebook, running his eyes down the list of prospective stocks to buy. One of them had today's date circled in red- and an hour to go until it was due to be at its lowest point in ten years. He typed it into the search box and found the company, taking a moment to scratch out his expected profit per stock on a piece of paper. He'd be dumping this one in a matter of weeks, as the company in question managed to turn itself around, attract new investment, and just generally de-gutter itself with the rapidity of a firework sailing skywards. And like a firework, it was also due to be a short-lived rise. Some companies were just doomed to suck._

 _Right. Say, almost a thousand shares ought to do it, then. And then he'd dump all of them when it peaked in a few week's time. Excellent. He rigged up the site so that the transaction was as simple as the click of a button, and got up to get himself a well-deserved beer._

 _Saskatchewan smiled at the mirror hanging on the opposite wall of his bedroom in his farmhouse, out on the prairie. His reflection smiled back, giving him a pleased little wave; it was behind him 100% for this venture. Buying that mirror was the best thing that had ever happened to him, bar none._

 _It told him what stocks would turn the quickest profit and when to buy and sell, right down to the second. Which shares to hold onto for the massive dividend they would pay out as the company did better and better. And of course, what offshore banks to hide his wealth in so the Canadian government couldn't tax it all into oblivion._

 _Because he needed that money. Every last penny of it. He needed that money to build something huge. He already knew about the abandoned Cold War monitoring station far up in the Northern forest; he'd need at least half a billion to modify it for his ends. And most of that would be sunk into "hush money" to keep all the construction quiet. Of course, the mirror would help with that too. It had already given him a list of contractors to call, guys who had no qualms about taking money for shady jobs and knew how to keep their mouths shut. And for the few that couldn't be bought off, the mirror itself would offer them knowledge of anything they pleased in exchange for their silence._

 _Saskatchewan smiled as he walked into the kitchen, pulling a beer from the fridge and looking at the plans spread across his kitchen table. The plans for a gaseous isotope separation system, revealed to him by the mirror itself. He'd had to flip the plans himself, of course, on his computer; they were after all a reflection of the original blueprints for the Manhattan project, so long ago._

 _Of course, once his head scientist was fired from the US Army Corps of Engineers in the next month or so, she would be modifying the plans to make them the best they could be, all to spite her former employers as much as possible. Saskatchewan and the Mirror had both agreed that having an expert on hand who could ask the questions that would never occur to him was for the best for the success of the project._

 _He returned to his computer and sat down, checking his watch. All the pieces were falling into place. Construction would begin soon. Refinement would begin shortly after that. And after that? Well, after that…after that, he'd have his vengeance._

 _And behind Saskatchewan's back, the mirror smiled cruelly at him._

* * *

Alberta quickly checked her map, eyebrows furrowed. She glanced up, looking around to make sure nobody was watching her, and then back down at the map.

Of course Ontario had decided to give her the one closest to Saskatchewan's office. Of fucking course. On the other hand, she HAD punched his face in, so this was undoubtedly her just desserts in that regard.

Alberta nodded to herself once she'd got her bearings, folding up the map carefully and shoving it in her pocket, mind racing. She headed in the direction of the Ethernet cable pipe, mind racing on thoughts that had nothing to do with the task at hand.

Thinking back on it…The mirror had answered her questions, truthfully and honestly, as much as it could. It refused to answer vague demands for information, but the more specific confirmations of the truth, that it was more than capable of doing.

But it had made her an offer. It had offered her the scene of Onty and Canada and Pierre **_FUCKING_** Trudeau. She hadn't asked for that, it just gave it to her.

Hang on a minute.

The mirror had made Ontario an identical offer, too. That much was perfectly clear. It had made Ontario an offer for information…and he'd turned it down, because whatever the fuck it was offering, it was slightly less important that making sure the goddamn world didn't end.

Saskatchewan's mirror…had made them both an offer. And maybe, just maybe, the offers it made…weren't the truth.

Alberta bit her lip nervously. If that was the case, then…what kind of lies had it been offering to her twin, wrapped in the guise of truth? What horrific visions had it presented him with, while claiming they were real?

Images horrific enough to take her kind-hearted twin and twist him into the kind of psychopath who was preparing to detonate nuclear warheads on forty-one major cities across North America, and who knew where else.

With that thought cemented in Alberta's mind, she found herself reflecting more and more on the etching into the mirror. There was no doubt that it was wrapped up in the middle of this mess, and…and it should probably be destroyed after all this was said and done.

 _The liar's doom lies in the emerald cage._

The eye on the mirror's frame, right at the apex, was an emerald. Or it sure looked like one, that was for sure. So if the Liar needed to be caged in emerald, and the mirror had an emerald eye affixed to the peak of its brass frame…

There was no doubt about it anymore. The mirror was the culprit. It needed to be destroyed.

A flash of red out of the corner of her eye drew Alberta's attention, snapping her out of her thoughts and focusing her on the task at hand once more. There in the hallway was a glass case containing a fire axe and a fire extinguisher, one that didn't look like it was alarmed. She bit her lip and looked around the hallway, nearly to her destination; Should she smash the case now…?

Well. Obviously. But. How was she going to explain why she, "Doctor Summers," was walking down the hallway with a fucking huge fire axe?

Well, that was easily explained by ramming the spike end into the face of anyone who got in her way. But Alberta wasn't too keen on the idea of going on a murderous rampage with an axe. Killing Sasky's people wasn't exactly going to get her into his good graces.

So, she'd leave it for the moment, until she'd found the pipe and made sure the coast was clear. Then she could sprint back and grab it and smash the cabling all to fuck while nobody could see her. A perfect plan, then.

Alberta schooled her posture back into shape, pulling her eyes forward and doing her damndest to look like she belonged. That wasn't exactly an easy thing; "act natural" was one of those shit things people said when they were frantic and panicky and not sure what kind of advice would be best to give.

She approached the corner, listening to the murmurings of a conversation that grew steadily louder as she approached. Alberta froze and pressed her back to the wall near the corner, listening closely. Just her luck, the two people talking there were right in the hallway she needed to go down to fuck up the ethernet cabling in the pipe.

And then she realized just _who_ was doing the talking, and Alberta's insides turned to icy slush.

"…Listen, sugar, I know you think that yer pretty little mirror is a catch-all, but ah'm tellin' ya, my favourite lab coat's missin' outta my locker an' I'm pretty sure it's yer sister who done stole it. This ain't any way t'treat yer employees, now." The woman's voice was coloured with an unmistakeable Texan drawl, and Alberta bit her lip. Oh, _fuck._

"I'm sure she has. I saw her do it this morning. But there's no reason for anyone to worry, Doctor. She's currently fumbling around and has no idea what she's looking at. Actually, to be more precise, she's currently cowering in a closet. I saw it myself." That was Saskatchewan's voice, and Alberta stiffened. Oh fuck. Oh fuck. Oh fuck. If he turned on his radar right at that exact second, he'd know she was there. He'd feel her soul's presence, not a few metres from him. This was his land, and here he was the master.

Oh, fuck.

"Ah appreciate that, sweetie, but all's ah'm sayin' is, Y'don't know what the future's gonna hold, you hear? Maybe it was wrong, y'know? Y'still might wanna track down that twin ah yers…just in case she starts messin' around with our stuff." Doctor Summers had a rather pleasant voice, all things considered, but the words she was saying had Alberta's stomach bunched in a knot. _That fucking Yankee bitch was going to get her fucking caught-_

Saskatchewan huffed out an annoyed sigh, and there was the sound of fabric shuffling around.

"It's of no consequence, doctor. I've said it before and I'll say it again. The mirror's only been right about ten thousand times in a row now. The future is on a fixed track, and fate is inescapable. And I'm fated to win today, doctor. I'm fated to be victorious. Now, I need to get changed. Would you mind going and making the announcement for everyone to start evacuating to the bunkers, just in case they figure out who pulled the trigger?"

Pulled the trigger. What a nice way to say _ended the fucking world._

Saskatchewan's voice was so cold when he spoke, it sent a shudder down Alberta's spine. She wanted to run over there and pull her brother into a hug. Force him to talk to her and tell her all of what was wrong with him until he felt better and they could stop this madness without needing to smash a single pipe or hurt a single person.

But the command he gave the Doctor had Alberta fidgeting. She chcked her map- oh, thank god. The PA controls were on the other side of the hallway to her current location. So the Doctor wouldn't be going past her-

"An' what're you gonna do, sugar?"

Saskatchewan just chuckled.

"To celebrate my victory, I'm gonna go and monologue a bit to Ontario. Might as well, right? It takes like three hours to get these fucking things prepped to fire, I have time to kill."

"Oh fer the love of- don't go doin' that. You're gonna mess up your whole plan if you go an' do that sorta thing, now."

There was a pause where Saskatchewan must have shrugged.

"Nah, nah. I'm not telling him anything important. I'm just gonna go introduce him to the mirror, that's all. Show him a vision of the future while I'm waiting, you know? It's not like there's anything he can do about it anyway. I've already seen how this day is gonna play out, down to the second. Today, I win. End of discussion. I'm going to get changed now, so if you wouldn't mind…?"

The tone on her brother's words was so…distant. So cold and cruel. He didn't care about what he was doing here, Alberta realized dimly. Whatever the mirror had said, whatever the mirror had told him…it had taken her brother's kindly soul and warped it so badly she could barely recognize his voice anymore.

The door to her brother's office closed. Doctor Summers muttered something to herself and started to walk away, and Alberta was left with a huge problem. Because Saskatchewan was convinced that he was right, that everything was still proceeding as it had been scripted; but that meant that if he came out of his office and saw the cables all torn to shit, well. Well, that…

His voice was so, so cold.

So cold.

Alberta shivered.

She didn't want to know what Saskatchewan would do if he caught her hammering at the controls for his nuclear weapons.

But…

You can't fight fate?

Oh, fuck that garbage. Fuck that garbage all the way to hell.

She needed a new plan, and fast. Alberta looked around, eyes falling on a small storage closet right across the hall from her with a simple lock on the door. She shoved a hand in the pocket of her stolen lab coat, pulling the snap gun's case out and getting herself ready to pick the lock.

She rushed across the hallway, acutely aware that she didn't have much time. Saskatchewan always changed quite quickly, and with that thought in mind, she jammed the snap gun into the lock on the doorhandle and pulled the trigger. The deadbolt's tumblers jostled, and Alberta attempted to twist the torsion wrench-

Nothing. Fuck, okay. She didn't have the timing down on this one. Try again-

Still nothing. The TAK from her gun wasn't getting any quieter each time she did this, and beads of sweat started rolling down her face. Fuck, fuck, fuck-

Finally, on the fourth try, the lock gave, and Alberta tumbled gratefully into the closet, bolting back to her feet to close the door as quietly as possible. There was some light in the small space, provided by two frosted glass panes set into the frame beside the door.

The small closet smelled like lemons and…something Alberta couldn't identify. But she was finally safe, and finally had a moment to breathe and mentally go over her plan.

So. Wait for Saskatchewan to leave his office and go find Ontario so he could fucking do the shitty villain thing and monologue in his face. Typical. On the other hand, Saskatchewan was probably stupidly proud of this installation of his, and probably wanted to share it with an actual engineer (That being Onty) who could appreciate the scale of his operation.

Because Alberta sure as fuck wasn't appreciating this fucking nightmare factory. Her brother was insane and was going to end the goddamn world, and she could have given less of a fuck about what kind of miraculous engineering hurdles he'd had to clear to do it.

Step two was grab the axe and smash the pipes and anyone who got in her way all to fuck. Great plan. A+. Best plan.

The sound of footsteps outside the janitor's closet had Alberta shifting uncomfortably on her feet. Oh, fuck-

Then they got closer to her closet.

And closer.

And closer.

And outside the frosted glass, she could see the strange silhouette of…something. It looked like Saskatchewan was wearing something with a long green cape. _What?_

He didn't say anything, just stood there for a moment, and Alberta shivered.

 _He knew._

He knew she was in there. He knew. There was absolutely no way he didn't know.

Outside the door, Saskatchewan smiled to himself.

Cowering in a closet. Check.

"You can't fight fate, Sis." He said softly to the door, touching a green-gloved hand to the fake wood.

And then, a pause.

Saskatchewan stood there for a moment, staring down at the linoleum. His thoughts swirled angrily, a storm of confusion and anger and misery, until the one that had been prickling at him stabbed its way to the surface and thrust itself into the fore of his mind.

"…You owe me big for what I'm about to do for you." he muttered, grabbing his cloak and stomping away.

And inside the closet, Alberta swallowed a lump of terrified tears.

* * *

 _A/N:_

 _The one thing I refuse to properly research is the stock market. That shit is so absurdly boring that the last time I tried to research it, my eyeballs threatened to roll themselves back into my skull just so they'd have something actually interesting to look at. So, uh, if you're a stock trader IRL and you're reading this, forgive me._

 _Guess who made good on their promise of accents? Yep, it's me. Yeah baby yeah._

 _Anyway, if you loved it, hated it, or want me to jump down a missile silo myself, let me know! Leave a review. Seriously guys, it helps more than you can know to get feedback on my work._


End file.
